


Flowers and Smoke

by jonius_belonius (Joni_Beloni)



Series: Road to Perdition [6]
Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: Angst, Drama, Dubious Consent, M/M, Pining, Romance, Toxic Relationship, bad behavior
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-07
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2019-01-30 15:23:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 24,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12656211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Joni_Beloni/pseuds/jonius_belonius
Summary: While working at the DA's office, Harvey falls into a relationship with his mentor, Cameron Dennis, which gradually turns toxic.  When Donna hands him proof that Cameron has been withholding evidence from cases, Harvey confronts him, and ultimately breaks things off to go work for Jessica earlier than planned. Years later, Mike comes into his life, in desperate need of a mentor.  Harvey resists his strong attraction to Mike, fearful of history repeating itself.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FrivolousSuits](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrivolousSuits/gifts).



> This story was suggested to me by frivoloussuits. Thanks for the idea! Hope you like the result.
> 
> Oh, and I think I seem to remember mention of Cameron’s wife in the show, but for the purposes of this story, he’s not married (mostly because that would complicate Harvey’s involvement with him, because of his own past, and strong feelings about cheating.)

“Oh, for God's sake.  Put down the beer, Harvey.  Beer is for frat boys.”

Harvey laughed, but he set his bottle on the bar top.  He might have argued the point with anyone other than Cameron Dennis.  He’d been sent to him to learn, though, and maybe there was more on the curriculum than how to prepare a case, or how to plead out and avoid trial as often as possible.  “What are we drinking, then?  I got my first conviction today, and I’m damn sure not celebrating with ice water.”

“Scotch,” said Cameron, signaling the bartender before taking the stool next to Harvey.  “That’s a man’s drink.  Macallan 18 is my poison of choice.  You could go for the 25, or 30, even 40, but you’d just be wasting your money.”

Evidently the bartender was familiar with Cameron’s preferences.  He set two glasses in front of them, and poured a drink for each.  Harvey lifted his, prepared to toss it back all at once, but Cameron laid a hand on his wrist, halting him.

“Slow down,” he admonished.  “This is for sipping.  You need to savor the aroma and complex notes.  To begin with, just smell.”  He swirled the amber liquid around in his glass, lifted it to his nose, and inhaled delicately.

Harvey mirrored him.  At first, the only thing he smelled was whiskey, sharp and strong.  He sniffed again, and his mouth pulled down, even as he nodded appreciatively.

“What do you smell?” asked Cameron.

“Smoke.  Flowers.  Something … tropical?”

“Not bad.  Now take a small sip and let it coat the inside of your mouth.  Roll it around … swallow.”

Harvey followed his instructions, holding the scotch in his mouth for a few seconds, and then swallowing.  Surprisingly smooth.  “That tasted like … orange?  Something spicy.”  He took a second sip.  “Flowers and smoke.  And scotch.  But nothing like the cheap stuff.”

Cameron nodded his approval.  “You’re a natural.  Here's some homework for you:  compare different distillations – sherry oak, fine oak, double cask.  Try a variety of single malts – Dalmore, Lagavulin, Balvenie – get to know the similarities and differences.  I can almost guarantee you’ll come back to the Macallan.”  He slapped Harvey on the back.  “All right, lesson’s over.  Let’s see if I can drink you under the table.”

 

******

 

The next time they shared a drink, Cameron came into Harvey's office on a Friday night and settled into one of the visitor chairs.

"Where are we on Guilfoyle?"

Harvey grinned at him, not bothering to hide his smugness.  "He took the deal.  Five years, and he gives up Brunner."

"That's my boy.  I think that calls for a drink, don't you?"

Harvey reached for his jacket, but Cameron stopped him.

"Where are you going?  If you don't have a bottle of scotch and two glasses in your bottom drawer, I don't know what the hell I've been teaching you all these months."

Laughing, feeling sheepish, Harvey opened the drawer and pulled out an unopened bottle of Macallan 18, and two plastic cups.  Conscious of Cameron observing his every move, he opened the bottle, poured, and handed a cup across the desk.

"What did I tell you?" said Cameron.  "I knew you'd stick with the Macallan.  You did your due diligence, right?  Checked out some other options?"

"Of course," Harvey lied.  He'd been too busy for Cameron's bullshit "homework."  "The Lagavulin was a close second, but the Macallan won by a nose."

"Ha.  Good one.  And good choice.”  He took a sip, and wrinkled his nose.  “You need to invest in better glasses.  Plastic is an abomination wholly undeserved by this fine adult beverage."

Cameron's disapproval – mild though it was – sat in Harvey's belly like a cold, queasy weight.  He silently made plans to take an hour off on Saturday to go shopping.

They drank in silence for a minute or two.

“I’m glad you stopped by,” said Harvey.  “I wanted to talk to you about this murder case I caught.  Clifford Danner?”

“Did you offer him a deal?”

“I’m not sure he’s our guy.”

“Does the evidence point toward him?”

“Well, yes.”

“Don’t tell me.  You have a ‘gut feeling’?”  The way Cameron said it, made it sound like an insult.

Harvey covered his discomfort with a quick sip of scotch.  “Something just doesn’t add up,” he muttered.

“Pay attention,” ordered Cameron, “because I hate repeating myself.  We don’t do ‘feelings’ in the DA’s office.  We don’t second guess hard evidence.  And we do not waste our goddamn time in court when a solid plea deal will get the bad guys off the streets and out of our case load.  So, get your head out of your ass, offer him a deal, and get him to take it.  You got that?”

For half a second, Harvey considered arguing the point.  Cameron was his mentor, though.  He trusted and admired him, and his record as district attorney was unsurpassed.  Harvey, on the other hand, was barely out of law school, and still had a lot to learn.  “I got it,” he finally conceded, and poured them each another shot.

 

******

 

Harvey had been at the DA’s office for almost six months when Cameron first invited him to his home.  The reason given for the invitation was the burgeoning caseload, which had gotten out of hand after one of the other assistant DA’s quit without notice. 

“We’ll accomplish more away from here,” Cameron explained, when Harvey tried to argue that it would be easier stay and work at the office, than lug three banker boxes out to Scarsdale.  “We can get comfortable, stretch out, and bang this stuff right out.”

Harvey wasn’t convinced, but he nodded agreeably.  Part of him felt flattered to be invited into Cameron’s home, plus he was frankly curious to see how he lived.

“Pack a bag,” said Cameron.  “We’ll leave straight from the office Friday night.  My fridge is stocked, but the bar is off limits – at least until we get caught up on every case.  You in?  Of course, you’re in.  I’m your boss, and I say you’re in.”

 

******

 

Friday night, they worked together in Cameron’s living room until one in the morning, silent and focused, with big band music playing softly from expensive Bluetooth speakers.  Cameron went to bed, but Harvey stayed awake to finish off the first box of files on his own.  He woke on the couch with his legs splayed out in front of him, his head tilted back, his mouth open, and legal documents from an open folder sliding down his chest.  He was pretty sure it was his own snoring that woke him up, until he smelled coffee, and heard cheerful whistling coming from the kitchen.

After straightening up the documents and setting the folder aside, he went to the kitchen to find a barefoot Cameron, wearing faded Levi’s and a Clash t-shirt, completing a flawless omelet as four slices of perfectly browned wheat toast popped out of his toaster.  A pitcher of fresh squeezed orange juice sat on the counter next to a plate of crispy bacon.

“Impeccable timing,” Cameron greeted him.  “And, might I add, your bedhead is appalling.  Remind me to give you the name of the product I use.  It’ll banish that shit forever.  Image, my boy, is everything.”

“I just woke up.”  Feeling self-conscious, Harvey combed fingers through his unruly hair.

“Is that how you excuse yourself to the ladies – or whoever – you bring home with you?”

Yawning, Harvey took a seat at the breakfast bar.  “I’ve yet to have any complaints, about my hair or anything else.”

The look Cameron gave him was enigmatic.  He slid the omelet onto a plate, added bacon and two pieces of toast, and set it in front of Harvey before turning back to begin an omelet for himself.  “Help yourself to coffee and OJ.”

“Do you eat like this every morning?”

“Only on Saturdays.  Sundays, it’s either pancakes or waffles.  I’ll let you choose.”

“Pancakes.  Obviously.”

“Good answer.”

Harvey nibbled at his toast as he watched Cameron work, and then almost laughed aloud when he realized that he’d been admiring his ass.  As his humor faded, he tried to decide what this meant.  He'd never considered him in a sexual way before this moment.  The moustache, for one thing, was off-putting as hell.  Plus, Cameron was his boss. 

Harvey might have been a horny twenty-something year old, but he wasn't stupid.  And they might not teach a course in sexual politics at Harvard Law, but he could imagine a hundred ways or more in which interoffice romance – or straight up fucking – could go south in a big way.

Still, here was Cameron in front of him, looking approachable for once in his casual attire, hair slightly messy, despite the miracle hair product he'd been touting.  Adding to his current state of mind, the last time Harvey had gotten laid was over a month ago, with a waitress at a bar in his neighborhood. 

The last time he'd been with a guy had been nearly two years ago.  That incident had involved his _Advanced Corporate Transactions_ instructor.  Professor Highfield had been around Cameron's age, and should have been every bit as off-limits as Cameron.  With an important paper coming due near the end of the semester, Harvey had visited him during office hours to get some advice, and mild flirtation had somehow escalated in short order to Harvey being bent double over Professor Highfield's desk, with a dick up his ass, grunting out his pleasure into the framed faces of the professor's adult children. 

It had been a one-time occurrence.  The class ended a week later, making it easy to avoid further contact with one another.  As a bonus, Harvey's paper, which should have been at most a B plus, garnered him a solid A grade.  He’d chosen not to dwell too closely on the reasons for that.

Cameron plated his own omelet, and came to sit on the stool next to Harvey.

"What's on your mind, Rookie?  You looked about a million miles away there."

Harvey shrugged.  "Just thinking about Harvard."

"Anything you want to share with the class?"

Chuckling, Harvey gave Cameron a sidewise glance, and thought, _what the hell._   "Actually, there was a little too much sharing going on."

Cameron lifted one eyebrow.  "Tell me more."  He took a bite of toast, and chewed, waiting.

Harvey had never told this to anyone before, but he didn't have anything to be ashamed about, he reasoned.  After only a slight hesitation, he continued.  "You remember Professor Highfield?"

"Hugh?  Sure.  He wasn't a professor when I attended.  He was a year ahead of me."  He eyed Harvey curiously.  "What about him?  Does he still wear those ridiculous sweater vests?"

Harvey grinned, remembering.  "Oh, shit.  I forgot about those.  And, yes, he does."  He stalled for a few seconds, taking a sip of coffee.  Keeping his gaze on Cameron, to gauge his reaction, he stated, "We fucked."

Cameron choked on his omelet.  When he'd swallowed, and downed half a glass of orange juice to clear his throat, he stared at Harvey … and kept staring.

Beginning to regret his impulse to confess, Harvey shifted uncomfortably on his stool, accidentally bringing his thigh into contact with Cameron's.  "Uh, this is the part where you either comment on my poor taste in men, or ask if he was any good.  Or both."

Cameron set down his silverware, and swiveled his stool slightly so that he could more easily watch Harvey's face.  He laid one hand on Harvey's knee.  Harvey went completely still, although it was a struggle not to telegraph his reaction to Cameron's touch – which was immediate, visceral _want_.

"You go for the older guys?" asked Cameron, with a knowing smirk.  "Got a little thing for the Daddies?"

_Don't say it.  Do not say it._

Harvey said it.

"Maybe I do."  It all depended on the guy, but it wasn't a lie.

Cameron's eyes darkened at the admission.  "Interesting." 

His hand slowly, slowly crept up Harvey's thigh, with only Harvey's thin pajama pants between palm and skin.  His cock began to plump.  Cameron could hardly fail to see his condition.  Dimly, Harvey thought he should say something, or do something, either object to, or encourage his boss's advances.  Frozen in place as he was – with shock, rising excitement, and no small amount of ambivalence – he did neither.

When Cameron's hand closed around his cock, Harvey groaned, long and loud.

Cameron bit his own lower lip, eyes glinting with something – perhaps lust, perhaps malice, or perhaps a bit of both.  He tightened his grip and jerked once, twice, and stopped.  As if they had a mind of their own, Harvey's hips moved toward Cameron.  He still had a fork in one hand, and a slice of toast in the other.  Cameron stroked him again, harder and faster, and he dropped fork and toast onto the countertop, grabbing for Cameron's hand so that he could press it more firmly against him.

Cameron laughed and stood up, bringing their bodies closer together, still holding Harvey in his fist.  "What would you do," he asked, "if I ordered you to suck my cock, right here and now?"

"I'd say, we, uh, _oh fuck_ , that we probably shouldn't do this."

"Would you?  That's not what your dick is telling me."  He released Harvey, only to plunge his hand down the front of his pants and take possession of him once more.  "Let's see if I'm right.  Harvey," he whispered, leaning closer, so that his warm breath wafted over Harvey’s ear, eliciting a shiver, "drop to your knees, and suck me off."  He let go of Harvey, took a step back, and waited.

Harvey closed his eyes, and conducted a brief, panicked debate in his mind.  They shouldn't, that was clear, but Cameron was his mentor, and oh Jesus, he wanted this, and what could it hurt, really?  With eyes open now, but not meeting Cameron's gaze, he slid gracefully to the floor in front of his boss. 

"Look at me," Cameron ordered.

Reluctantly, Harvey raised his eyes.  In that moment, Cameron appeared as forbidding as he'd ever been, and _goddamn_ if that didn't turn him on even more.  Moving deliberately, Cameron unfastened and unzipped his jeans, and pulled out his cock, which was half-hard already.  He stroked himself several times, and then urged, "Go on, Harvey."

Harvey shuffled closer, nervous all of a sudden that he wouldn't perform to Cameron's standards.  He licked his lips and wrapped his palm around Cameron.  As he dragged his tongue over the head, Cameron gave a low moan and cradled his head in both hands.  Gaining confidence from what he interpreted as positive feedback, Harvey closed his mouth around the head and sucked, gentle and wet.

"That's it.  Don't forget my balls.  Play with them a little.  Yeah, that's good.  Now I want to see how much of me you can take."

Harvey concentrated on getting it right, in much the same way he always followed Cameron's instructions at work, striving to be thorough, to anticipate his needs, and to go the extra mile.  Cameron’s cock was of average size, so taking it was a challenge, but not impossible.  Harvey didn't have a lot of experience in this area, but he had more than enough of both confidence, and hard-headed determination.  He relaxed his throat, too a deep breath, and swallowed Cameron all the way down.  When he had him there, he hummed around him, knowing this was the quickest way to get him off.

"God," gasped Cameron, "that's good."  He wrapped his arms around Harvey's head, holding him in place.  "Fuck.  You're a regular whore."  His hip jerked, choking Harvey.  "My own little bitch."  The jerks grew more violent, and now he was pulling Harvey's hair, so hard his eyes watered.  Suddenly, he slapped the back of head and pulled out, ordering, "Close your eyes."

Harvey did so, and seconds later, hot cum splatted his face and neck.  He knelt at Cameron's feet, light-headed, breathing hard, his own cock hard and aching.  Something soft touched his face.  It took him a moment to realize that Cameron was using a dish towel to clean cum off his face.  When it was clear of his eyes, he dared to open them, and gazed up at Cameron.

"Would you like to get off, Harvey?"

Feeling incapable of speech, he nodded.

"Next time, if you behave yourself, I may invite you into my bed, and take my time fucking your sweet ass.  For now, you'll have to get yourself off."  He wiped his hands, tossed the towel on the floor, and then retook his seat.  "I'll just be right here, enjoying my coffee."

It took only a split second for Harvey to review his options.  He could refuse, and close the door on future attentions from Cameron, or he could do what both his dick and Cameron were demanding.  Either option would likely result in awkwardness at work, but at least with option two, he could hope for a repeat engagement.  What probably decided him was his extreme dislike of backing down from a challenge.  He reached down his pajama bottoms and took hold of his cock.

"Pull it out where I can see it."

Hearing Cameron's voice, relaxed, almost dismissive, turned Harvey on even more.  He did as his boss had ordered, shoving the front of his pants down far enough to free himself, and began stroking himself off.

"It's kind of fascinating, really," said Cameron.  "Everyone has their own little routine.  I’ll bet if I watched you do this a hundred times, everything would follow in the same order.”

Harvey grunted.  He wasn’t exactly up for a discussion just then.  Seeing Cameron feeding himself delicate forkfuls of omelet, as if Harvey wasn’t exposed and vulnerable, masturbating on his floor, should have killed the mood.  The shame that flooded Harvey’s veins, however, only spurred him on.  His hand sped up as he tilted his head back and bit his lip.  He was close … right there …  He heard the rustle of newspaper.  Picturing Cameron reading unconcernedly while Harvey … that did it.  With a raw shout, he came hard, spilling over his fist, and dampening his pajama pants.

Panting, he waited for the after-tremors to subside.

“Porn-tastic,” drawled Cameron.

Harvey opened his eyes just in time to see Cameron kick the used dish towel in his direction.  Something about that small gesture brought Harvey back to himself in a rush.  What they hell were they doing?  He tucked himself in and surged to his feet.  “I, uh, think I could use a shower.”

“Harvey.”  Cameron pointed his fork at Harvey’s plate.  “Sit down.  Eat.”

“But I –”

“You’re a sticky mess.  I know.  You can shower after breakfast.”

Harvey hesitated a moment longer.  Observing the growing displeasure on Cameron’s face, he finally gave in and sat back down.  He shoveled food into his mouth, all too aware of Cameron’s gaze on him.

“Do not,” said Cameron, “question my orders again.  Not here.  Not at work.”  He waited for Harvey to answer, and when he didn’t, added, “Understood?”

“Sure.”

Cameron gave a low hum, as if not believing Harvey’s sincerity.  Harvey looked up from his plate to find Cameron studying him over the rim of his own coffee mug. 

“Make no mistake, Harvey.  We are entering new territory here.  You’re less than a year into a promising career at the DA’s office.  Play your cards right, and you could be me someday.”

Harvey had never confessed his plans to go work for Jessica.  His answering nod was non-committal, which felt like only a minor deceit.

“This,” continued Cameron, gesturing back and forth, “this stays between us.  Nothing changes at the office.  When I want you, I’ll let you know.  You don’t question, or argue.  Tell me you understand.”

Harvey chafed at Cameron’s demanding attitude.  He did his best not to show it, though.  His job was important to him, and Cameron still had a lot to teach him.  He didn’t mind signing up for a little fuck buddy arrangement.  This weekend – and this morning in particular – had opened his eyes to the promising benefits of a physical relationship with his boss.  With that in mind, he grinned at Cameron, and said, “I understand.”

“Say you’re mine.”

Harvey balked for a moment.  Then, “Of course,” he said.

It wasn’t enough for Cameron.  “The words, Harvey.  I need to hear them.”

He shrugged, and chose to ignore the queasy misgivings which threatened to send his breakfast back up.  He set his fork down, unable to eat anymore.  “If that’s what you need to hear, I’ll say it.  I’m yours.”  _For now.  Until the novelty wore off, or he no longer needed Cameron, whichever came first._

“Good.  We still have a box of cases to get caught up, so let’s get to it.”

 

******

 

A pattern soon established itself.  All week, Monday through Friday, Harvey worked his cases, ostensibly independent, but with Cameron keeping a close eye on things, making suggestions, throwing down orders when Harvey proved stubborn.  Every Friday morning, Harvey packed a bag, and after work, Cameron drove him to Scarsdale for the weekend. 

They didn’t always bring work home with them.  Sometimes, if they were caught up enough on cases, they turned on a ballgame, or a movie, ordered food in, or cooked.  That is, Cameron cooked.  He was an above average chef, and his meals never disappointed.  Harvey, on the other hand, could grill a steak and fix a passable salad, but that was the extent of his culinary skills. 

Mostly, though, these weekends were about sex.  The first time Cameron fucked him, he was careful, almost gentle, and made certain that Harvey was comfortable and on board every step of the way.  By the end of it, he had Harvey howling into the pillow and coming like a detonation.  Cameron’s release minutes later had been only slightly less noisy.  He gasped and cursed against Harvey’s sweaty back, and bit down on his shoulder, hard enough to hurt.

“God,” panted Cameron as they both sprawled on their backs, staring at the ceiling, “you are one outstanding fuck.”

“Right back atcha.”

“By the way, been meaning to tell you: your decision on the Marcoin plea deal was top-notch.  You made me proud.”

Harvey turned his head and arched an eyebrow at Cameron.  “What I’m hearing is, I’m not a terrible attorney?”

A gasping huff of laughter from Cameron.  “Not terrible at all.”

“Thanks, boss.  Would this be a good time to ask for a raise?”  Almost immediately, he wished he could take it back.  This wasn’t the ideal moment to bring up money – not with their cum still drying on the sheets.

“That’s not how we do things at the DA’s office.  Read your contract.”

Harvey had, and knew that he would be getting a modest raise at his one-year mark.  Unlike private practice, he would never grow rich working for Cameron.

Eager to change the subject, he sat up.  “Think I’ll take a shower.”  Noting Cameron’s sudden frown, he added, “Care to join me?”

“Eh, you’re like a damn cat, with all the washing up you do.  But sure.  I wouldn’t mind getting you all soaped up.  I’m nowhere near close to ready for another round, but that doesn’t mean I can’t play with you a little, right?”

“Right.”  Harvey was regretting his offer, but it was too late to take it back now.

Luckily, Cameron’s shower was big enough for the two of them.  After adjusting the temperature, they both got in, with Cameron standing behind Harvey.  He immediately made good on his intentions, grabbing the bar of soap, lathering up, and then running his hands all over Harvey’s wet skin.

“Bend over, and brace your hands against the wall.”

Harvey attempted to laugh it off.  “Cameron, I don’t think – ”

“But you _do_ think.  That is precisely the problem.  We’ve had this talk, and you know my feelings on having to repeat myself.”

Harvey pressed his lips together, holding in his objections, and assumed the position Cameron had requested.  He should have guessed what was coming next, but still jerked in surprise when Cameron thrust two soapy fingers inside him.

“Mm,” Cameron murmured, “still loose.”  He pulled out his two fingers, and plunged back inside with three.  “Ha.  You felt that, didn’t you?”

Harvey bit his lip and nodded.  He was sore from earlier.

“Let’s see if I can make you come again.”  He reached around and took hold of Harvey’s cock.

“I’m still a little – ”  He winced as his sensitive cock began to plump once more at the coaxing from Cameron’s palm. 

“Ah, youth.”  Cameron finger-fucked him, and stroked him off roughly, while Harvey struggled to remain upright on the slippery tiles.

“God,” gasped Harvey.  “I don’t think …”

“Harvey ...  Turn off your brain.  Let me take care of you.”

That didn’t sound so bad.  Harvey closed his eyes, arms trembling with strain.  He could feel another orgasm approaching, maddeningly just out of reach.  “Harder,” he gasped.  “Do it harder.”

He hadn’t specified which thing Cameron should do harder.  The fingers of one hands fucked in and out of his sore ass with enough force to make his eyes cross, while his other hand stroked his stiff cock like a piston set on high.  Dimly, Harvey was impressed that Cameron had the coordination to perform both operations at once, and so expertly.

Cameron’s fingers found his prostate, causing Harvey to curse hoarsely.  They plunged in again and held, pressing and pressing, while his other hand paused, and then sped up again.  Astoundingly, Harvey's second orgasm in less than fifteen minutes ripped through him as violently as the first.  He cried out, and then inhaled, breathing in water.  As he began to cough, Cameron pulled his fingers out and grasped his shoulder in a gesture of comfort.

“Ssh,” he murmured in Harvey’s ear.  “You’re okay.  I’ve got you.  Let’s get you rinsed off.”

Standing – or rather, leaning – under the flow of water for so long had nearly accomplished that already, but Harvey was too wrung out to complain as Cameron helped him straighten up, and removed the detachable shower head to spray warm water over every inch of him.  Then he turned off the water, grabbed a thick towel from the rack, and spent long minutes drying him off.  Harvey could not remember ever being explored so thoroughly and comprehensively as he was by Cameron’s bath towel.  If he hadn’t already come twice, he might have gotten it up again from the prolonged, intimate attention. 

When he was finished, Cameron sent him to get dressed in his pajamas, while he finished up in the bathroom.  “Wait for me in the living room,” he ordered.  “I’ll order us some dinner.  You can pick something to watch.”  He stepped closer, and surprised Harvey by kissing him, the first time he had done so.  Harvey was too tired to do more than stand passively and let him.  It was … nice, but not earth-shattering.  Maybe he was too tired to respond.

Cameron lifted his head and let out a self-conscious sounding laugh.  “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while.”

Harvey didn’t reply, but without thinking, he licked his lips, observing how Cameron’s gaze was drawn to his mouth, and how his eyes darkened.  At that moment, it seemed natural to return the kiss, but Harvey didn't.  He attempted a smile, and fled.

 

******

 

As time went on, Cameron's attitude toward Harvey grated on him more and more.  When you had someone at work managing (and at times, micro-managing) your every decision, for eight, or ten, or more hours a day, it might have been nice to relax on your down time.  It might have been nice, thought Harvey, with increasing resentment, to be the one managing, and ordering, and demanding. 

The sex was great, so at least there was that.  It was uncomplicated, and yet at the same time so appallingly complicated.  Everything they did was at Cameron's whim.  Even the one time Cameron permitted Harvey inside him, he kept up such a steady stream of suggestions, and notes, and demands, that the whole thing felt more like an excruciating performance review than an act of … no, not love … of fulfillment.  Or something like that.

Sometimes during the week, as a salve to his ego, Harvey went out and picked up a woman for a quick one and done, just to remember how it felt to be the one in charge, and not the fuck toy.

The perks at work helped in the ego salving department at first, but he began to grow uncomfortable, the longer his arrangement with Cameron continued.  He was Cameron's guy, in every way.  Did it show, he wondered?  No one ever mentioned how close they seemed, and to be fair, Cameron treated him with complete professionalism during work hours.  He gave Harvey all the best cases, however, ignoring the intricate precedents of seniority which had existed before he'd arrived. 

If anyone suspected, Donna might have.  She grew increasingly hostile to Cameron.  Plus, there was a _look_ that she got sometimes, lips pursed, gaze withdrawn, appearing scornful of everyone in her vicinity.  Whenever that look landed on Harvey, a new surge of guilt, and something else (shame, he would later acknowledge to himself) washed through him.  They never spoke about it though, and so Harvey lived alone with his secret. 

 

******

 

It was Monday morning.  In his office, Harvey shifted in his seat, trying and failing to get comfortable, following an especially intense weekend with Cameron – an experience which had ignited a tiny spark of rebellion in him.  He hadn’t complained, though, while Cameron tied him to the bed and went at him for what felt like hours, first with a dildo, and then with his own Viagra-aided dick.  He kept any objections to himself, but now, as he attempted to concentrate on the brief in front of him, he began entertaining casual thoughts about breaking things off with Cameron.  Not immediately, but perhaps at some unspecified point in the future, and at the appropriate time.

His office door was open, so he clearly heard Donna’s irritated voice.

“Oh, fuck me,” she snarled.  “You have got to be kidding me.”

“What’s wrong?” he asked, raising his voice, but not his gaze.

She didn’t reply to him, but muttered darkly, what sounded like, “That sleazy fucker.”

Growing curious, and assuming she was talking about one of their cases, Harvey pushed back his chair, stood, and walked out to her desk.  “What’s going on?”

She shook her head, frowning.  “As if you didn’t know.”

“Know what?”

She pressed her lips together and stared at him, long and hard.  “Let’s go outside.  You can buy me a coffee.”

“Technically, I don’t think you can call what you drink coffee.”

“Just … come or don’t.  I need fresh air.”

Growing concerned, Harvey followed her to the elevator.  They rode down in silence, neither speaking again until they were on the sidewalk, halfway down the block, and well away from the building.

Donna didn’t mince words.  “I can’t do this anymore.”

Alarmed, Harvey shot back, “Do what?”  Had Donna figured things out after all?  It didn’t help that Harvey had been thinking nearly the exact same thing only minutes earlier.

“I can’t work for a sleaze ball.”

“What did you just say?”

“Calm down.  Not you.  At least I don’t think so.  I’m talking about your fucking ‘mentor’.”  She grimaced as she said this, and made air quote with her fingers.

Harvey sighed.  “Look, I know you’re not Cameron’s biggest fan.”

“It’s more than that.”  She looked away, shaking her head.  “Forget it.  You’ll just fall all over yourself defending him.  Maybe – ”  Clamping her mouth shut, she gave her head another shake.

“Maybe what?  If you have something to say, then say it.”

She didn’t answer right away.  When she did, it was with what appeared to be a large dose of reluctance.  “One time could have been a mistake.  Twice I could excuse as coincidence.  But five times?  That is a pattern.  It’s been happening for a while now, probably since before we got here.  Documents misfiled, or evidence not showing up on the discovery list.”

"Which case?"

"The latest?  One of yours.  Gable."

“Anything exculpatory?”

“Not blatantly, but if an ADA had seen these, the investigation might have opened up further, or gone in a different direction.  Someone was definitely putting a thumb on the scales of justice.”

“And you think that someone was Cameron?”

“He’s the only common denominator.  Five ‘lost’ documents, for cases handled by four different ADAs.”

Suddenly tired, Harvey leaned against the building they stood in front of.  “You know as well as I do how many case files pass through this office every year.  Five misfiled documents do not even constitute a blip, if we’re talking percentages.”

“Harvey, those were just the ones I _found_.  By accident.  What does that tell you?”  When he didn’t answer, she said, “It tells me he’s dirty, and at the very least should be censured, and possibly disbarred.”

He lifted his hand in a warding gesture.  He didn’t want to believe her, but she was Donna, and up until now, her instincts had proven virtually infallible.  “You can’t accuse Cameron with such flimsy evidence.  He’d laugh in your face, fire you, and make sure you never worked as a legal secretary in New York again.”

“Oh, please.  Don’t you think I know that?  Why do you think I’m telling you all this?”

Harvey gave an incredulous laugh.  “You want _me_ to accuse him?”  He had a quick vision of how that would go, most of which involved Cameron laughing in _his_ face, firing him, and making sure _he_ never worked at another law firm in New York.  Except Harvey had an ace up his sleeve, by the name of Jessica Pearson.  She would believe him, he was certain of that, plus he still had a job waiting for him at her firm.  He pushed away from the wall.  “Don’t do anything yet.  Don’t say anything.  Give me the document you found, and let me talk to Cameron.”  Without accusing him, he thought, but didn’t say it aloud.

Donna appeared skeptical, but she gave a tight nod.  “Don’t take too long.”  She looked directly at him.  “And maybe don’t have that conversation while you’re lying in his bed, freshly fucked.”  She pivoted on one heel and clicked up the sidewalk, back to their building.

Harvey stared after her, frozen in place.  Well, that answered _that_ question.  Donna knew.

 

******

 

By Friday, Harvey still hadn't worked up the nerve to talk to Cameron.  And really, it wasn't so much a question of nerve, as of opportunity.  Twice as many cases as usual hit their office that week, and everyone was up to their eyeballs in work.  He ignored Donna's meaningful glares every time Cameron stopped by his office, and avoided any more heart-to-hearts with her.

His weekend with Cameron would be a working one, so he tucked the Gable file in with the others.  On the ride to Cameron's place, he rehearsed in his mind how he would broach the sticky subject.

He didn't get the chance Friday night.  Cameron was on him the second the front door closed, pushing him against the wall and kissing him, hard and rough, until he was light-headed.  Moving so fast that Harvey didn't have time to process his feelings about the kiss, Cameron grabbed his tie and pulled him, stumbling to keep up, into the bedroom.

"Get out of that goddamn suit," Cameron growled, yanking at the knot on his own tie. 

Harvey only got as far as shrugging out of his jacket, when Cameron stopped him.

"Wait.  I changed my mind.  I want you just like that, kneeling there."  He pointed at a spot on the floor directly in front of him.  "Leave the tie on.  Leave everything on."

Harvey hesitated, not liking the proprietary tone, but he'd been on his knees plenty of times for Cameron, he reasoned.  He dropped down, and without waiting to be asked, unfastened Cameron's trousers and pulled out his cock, which was already half-hard.

As he worked him with mouth, and throat and tongue, Cameron tugged on his hair, and traced the edge of Harvey's mouth with his fingertips.  "My god, you're good at that.  I swear, nobody wears a suit like you do, baby.  You look so fucking hot like that.  I can practically smell the starch in your shirt.  Yeah, that's it.  Just like that."

Wishing Cameron would, for once, just shut the hell up, Harvey re-doubled his efforts to get him off as quickly as possible.  By now, he'd mapped all his sensitive spots, and possessed a full repertoire of moves guaranteed to make him squirm, and moan, and shoot down his throat within minutes.

Things didn't go as Harvey anticipated.  Cameron grabbed the hair at the back of his head, yanking so hard that he had little choice but to pull off.  Harvey stared up at him, panting, wondering what he'd done wrong.

"Not yet," rasped Cameron.  "Get your clothes off and get on the bed."

Feeling rebellious, Harvey moved slowly to comply.  By the time Cameron was lying naked on top of the covers, palming his still erect cock, Harvey was stepping out of his trousers.

"Harvey …"

"What?"  The word came out more sharply than he'd intended.

"Do not keep me waiting.  And lose the attitude."

The threat was implied, but still Harvey wanted to ask, _or what?_   He didn't, and continued undressing, all too aware of Cameron's avid gaze on him, watching every move.  Harvey had never been shy about nudity, but the way his boss was looking at him had him wishing he was back in his suit – even if it meant having Cameron find ways to debase him fully clothed.

He gave his head a quick shake.  This wasn't about debasement.  This was sex, plain and simple.  Or, not so plain, not so simple, but still sex.  He eased onto the bed next to Cameron, lining his body up with his, leaning his head on one hand.  He considered kissing him, maybe paying him back in kind with borderline violence. 

Before he could make a move, Cameron picked up the lube and his Rolex from the nightstand.  He set the lube next to Harvey's elbow.  "You have one minute," he told Harvey, "to prepare yourself for me."

Cameron had always enjoyed his games, but this was new.  Harvey guessed at the consequences if he refused.  He wouldn’t put it past Cameron to try to fuck him dry.  It wouldn't get him anywhere, because Harvey knew he could physically overpower him, if it came down to it.  But refusal would likely lead to another sort of fight, cascading inevitably into Harvey expressing his growing doubts about continuing their relationship, which would result in his changed status at work.  No longer would he be the "favorite child" of the man in charge.

There was also the matter of the Gable document that Donna had found, and the other "misplaced" documents.  He wanted Cameron in a good mood when he questioned him about those.

It took only a matter of seconds to review his alternatives and make his choice.  He picked up the lube and flipped up the cap.  Bending one knee, he squirted lube on his fingers, and reached for his entrance.

"God," breathed Cameron, sounding almost reverent.  "You have got to be the prettiest man I've ever seen."

Harvey let out a dissatisfied huff.  "Bullshit."  He plunged two fingers inside himself, and spread the lube, stretching himself.

"Knock off the fake modesty.  It's true.  Hell, that's probably at least eighty percent of the reason I hired you."

Harvey's hand went still.  "What about my Harvard degree and class rank?"  Jessica had all but implied that he was a shoe-in.

"Harvard hotshots like you are a dime a dozen, Harvey.  Don't stop.  Thirty seconds."

Continuing to finger fuck himself, Harvey tried to focus on the stretch, and the burn.  He went for more lube, and managed to squirt a blob onto the covers.  Grimacing, he rescued as much of it as he could, and resumed his preparations.  These days, he didn't require much.  "I'm a good attorney," he panted.  "You know that."

"Never said you weren't.  Doesn't mean you aren't one hell of a treat to look at.  Okay, that's time.  Get your fingers out of your ass and roll over."

On his hand and knees, the way Cameron liked him best, Harvey looked over his shoulder to watch Cameron roll on a condom.  "If I'm so goddamned pretty, why don't you ever want to fuck me face to face?"

"Because," said Cameron, positioning himself behind Harvey, "putting you on your knees is one of my greatest pleasures in life."

That moment, as Cameron shoved into him, making him grunt in pain, was the moment Harvey decided he needed to end it with Cameron.  He grabbed a pillow and clutched it to his chest, enduring the pounding.  It seemed to last forever, leading Harvey to assume that Cameron’s erection was chemically aided. 

When Cameron reached underneath Harvey, and found his cock still limp, he paused, sunk deep inside Harvey.  “What is it with you tonight?” he asked, breathing hard.  “You need one of my little blue pills?”

“No.”

“Then I suggest you get it up, because I can keep this up for hours.”

Harvey grunted again, wishing he’d stopped things before they got this far.  He was at Cameron’s mercy, though, and short of putting up a fight which would likely result in injury to one or both of them, he needed to see it through to the end. 

He pictured himself with the last woman he’d brought home, whose name he’d already forgotten.  That didn’t work, so he pictured Jessica naked.  No effect.  He pictured her naked except for a pair of stilettos, cursing him for being such a stubborn, thoughtless fool.  She brought the toe of one shoe to his chin, and he groaned as his cock began to plump.

“Well, there you go,” said Cameron, smug and approving.  He pinched one of Harvey’s nipples, squeezing hard and holding. 

“Shit.”  The vision of Jessica dissolved, but Cameron’s painful touch had Harvey moaning nonstop.  He hated that this turned him one so much. 

With one hand on Harvey’s cock, and the other continuing to torture his nipple, Cameron started moving again, setting a punishing, steady rhythm that had the headboard smacking the wall. 

“Come on, Harvey,” Cameron hissed in his ear, “come for me.”  He bit down on Harvey’s shoulder, and let go of his nipple so he could brace one hand against the wall.  This changed the angle of his attack, so he was pounding just the right spot.

Harvey came with a howl, which he tried to smother in the pillow. 

Laughing breathlessly, Cameron continued to fuck him for several more excruciating minutes.  Finally, he froze, cursing through clenched teeth.  Harvey could feel his hot pulses empty into the condom.  _God,_ he wondered miserably, _why had he ever thought this would be a good idea?_

He lay still, passively waited for Cameron to pull out, endured the customary ass slap, and listened disinterestedly as Cameron dressed and quizzed Harvey on what he wanted for dinner.

“I don’t care,” he finally muttered.  “Anything.  Whatever.”

When Cameron left the bedroom, Harvey hurried to the bathroom to take a hot shower, careful to lock the door behind him.

 

******

 

Harvey had made up his mind to talk to Cameron after breakfast, once they transitioned into the actual working part of their working weekend.  He didn’t bother raising any objections when Cameron rolled on top of him in the middle of the night, and sleepily rubbed off against him.  At least he didn’t try to fuck him again, he reasoned, while a dribble of Cameron’s semen moistened his pajama bottoms. 

He didn’t object, because if they were going to fight, he’d rather do it with the sun up, making his escape from Scarsdale less complicated.  His reasoning, while solid, did not make him feel any less disgusting.

Cameron’s traditional Saturday morning omelets and bacon and toast had been consumed, and they’d grabbed a file, carried their coffee mugs to the living room, and each claimed one of the sofas.  With his mind only half on the work in front of him, Harvey close to an hour trying out and discarding various opening gambits.

In the end, he opened the Gable file, removed the wayward document, and cleared his throat.  “I, uh, I’m a bit confused.”

Cameron glanced up at him over the open file he held.  “Like that’s news?”

Harvey’s face tightened.  Cameron undermining his confidence was nothing new, but it still stung like hell every time he did it.  His sudden anger gave him the impetus he needed, and he thrust the page at Cameron.  “I found this misfiled.  It’s not the first time.”

Cameron barely glanced at the document, and then shrugged.  “So?”

“Aren’t you even going to look at it?”

With an aggrieved sigh, Cameron snatched the paper from Harvey’s hand.  “This is from the Gable case.”  He frowned at Harvey.  “This was settled correct?”

“Yes.”

“Then who gives a shit?”

He tried to give the page back to Harvey, but he wouldn’t take it, so he dropped it on the coffee table.

“The defendant might have,” said Harvey.  “Or their attorney.  Or the judge.  I’d think the District Attorney would care most of all.”

“Yeah?  Why’s that?”

“Because it might have affected the outcome of the case.”

“By allowing some scumbag to go free?  Or necessitating a costly trial?  You know that’s not how we do things in my DA’s office, right?”

Harvey’s stomach seemed to drop further with every self-damning word Cameron spoke.  “This should have been listed in the discovery documents.”

“Too bad, so sad.”

“This isn’t the first misplaced document we’ve found.”

“We?”

Harvey winced at his mistake.  No way was he dragging Donna into this.  “I misspoke.  It’s not the only one _I’ve_ found.”

Cameron’s eyes had narrowed, but he didn’t press him.  “What’s your point?”

“My point is, this is wrong.  You … that is, whoever did this, could be facing sanctions, or worse.”

“Are you threatening me, pretty boy?  Seriously?”

The conversation was unraveling just as Harvey had feared it might.  Next, Cameron would dare him to go to the ethics committee, and threaten his career if he did.  Harvey would lose.  He knew it, and Cameron knew it.  Maybe Cameron wasn’t trying too hard to hide his guilt now, but Harvey had seen him argue, and dissemble, and beat every other attorney in the room at their game.

Harvey chose his next words carefully.  “It’s not a threat.  I just don’t want any part of it.  Let me handle my own cases, in my own way.”

“Nah.  I don’t think so.  You’re itching to go to trial, to make a name for yourself.  I can’t allow that.”

“Fair enough,” said Harvey, although it was not fair at all.  He picked up the document and placed it back in the file folder.  “You know what?  I’m not feeling all that great.  I might be coming down with something.  The flu, or a cold.  I should probably head home a little early.”

Cameron gave him a long, steady look.  “Of course,” he finally replied, voice bland.  “You’ve been working long hours, these past few months.  You do look a little rough.  Go grab your stuff, and I’ll call you a cab.”

Harvey winced at the thought of how much this breakup was going to cost him, and not just in cab fare.  He packed in a hurry, and went back to the living room to find Cameron engrossed in another file.

“The cab should be here in about ten minutes.”

“Thanks.  I think I’ll go wait for it outside.”

“Suit yourself.  I’ll see you Monday morning.”  Cameron looked up from the file.  “Don’t be late.  I wouldn’t want to have to put anything in your personnel file.” 

And there it was, the implied threat. Harvey could see exactly how this would go, how it would be for him, the former golden boy, now disgraced and made out to be a useless screwup.

It was a long ride back to Manhattan. He had the driver let him out in front of Jessica’s building, and emptied out his wallet to pay him. He rang her buzzer, waited in the biting wind for her to answer, and finally rode the elevator up to her place.

She put up a fight. A year ago, he might have lost the argument. He’d learned a lot from Cameron, though, more than how to hold back his orgasm until told he could come, or how to lie still without flinching when Cameron was in the mood to torture his nipples for hours at a time.

“Why, Harvey?” she asked repeatedly. “I need more than your bullshit excuse about how you’re just tired of the grind. I wouldn’t have sent you there if I didn’t know you could handle it. Why now? I wanted you there for at least three years, and it’s barely been one.”

There were sitting in her living room, facing one another across her glass-topped coffee table. Her laptop was open and running, and work files were stacked neatly on the table.

Harvey sighed, absently rubbing his temples. “That’s the best answer I have for you. I’m just … I’m done. If you won’t hire me, I’ll go somewhere else. I really don’t care where.” That was only partially true. He would go somewhere, but would be deeply hurt if she didn’t agree to hire him.

Jessica clicked her tongue. “I thought you were made of tougher stuff. I can’t say I’m not disappointed to discover I may have been mistaken about your potential.”

It was too much. First the fight with Cameron, and the sickening realization of how he had allowed himself to be used. Now this, Jessica implying he wasn’t good enough, and never had been. He leaned forward, elbows on knees, resting his head in his hands. “You weren’t mistaken,” he grated. “I can do this.”

“Can you? Or are you just another pretty face after all?”

He wanted to weep, but Harvey Specter didn’t to that. He tightened his jaw and lifted his head, fixing her with his dark gaze. “Don’t you dare,” he hissed lowly, “ever say that to me again. Do you think you can get away with it, just because you’re a woman, and I’m a man?”

Jessica’s tension eased visibly, and a tiny smile played over her lush lips. “Touche’,” she said, nodding approvingly. “There’s the Harvey I remember.”

He let out a cynical laugh, shaking his head. “Everything is always a goddamn test with you, isn’t it?”

“Not everything,” she said, but didn’t explain what she meant by that. “All right, Harvey. You can come work for me. For the record, I think there’s more to the story than you’re telling me. I hope someday you’ll trust me enough to let me in on it. We all have things we prefer to keep close to the vest. I’ll give you this one. Going forward, however, I require your complete loyalty, and you honesty. Is that understood?”

_Do not questions my orders again. Not here. Not at work. Understood?_

“Harvey? Did you hear what I said?”

He gave his head a quick shake, trying to banish Cameron’s voice. “Yes. Of course. I understand completely.”

She gave him a funny look, but finally nodded, as if she believed him. “Good. Now get out of here so I can enjoy the rest of my weekend.”

He gave her a lop-sided smile, glancing meaningfully at all the work on her table. Her chin came up, as if daring him to say a word. Figuring he’d better quit while he was ahead, he showed himself out.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This thing sort of got away from me, lengthwise, growing from 2 chapters to 3. So here's chapter 2. If I can complete chapter 3 by next weekend, I'll post it. If not, I'll wait until January, after all the secret santa stuff gets posted.

**Ten Years Later**

 

Harvey had no interest in becoming a mentor to anyone. Technically, he supposed, after he left Cameron, Jessica had become his. They’d both learned, through months of trial and error, that he performed best when she backed off and let him handle his cases in his own way.

He’d made senior partner, even before Louis, but he barely had to time to celebrate properly before Jessica was pressuring him to hire an associate. A mentor. He repeated the word in his mind like a curse.

“Hard pass,” he told her over celebratory drinks at a nearby bar.

“Overruled. The interviews are set up for tomorrow afternoon. All you have to do is show up and pick someone. I expect you to make an informed decision. No coin toss, or short straws.”

“How about naked wrestling matches? I’ll bring the salad oil.”

“Harvey, now is not the time for your juvenile attitude. Get it through your head: you don’t have a choice. You’re doing this.”

“I made it this far on my own.”

“That is bullshit, and you know it.  You’re a part of this firm, no matter how much you like to think of yourself as a lone wolf.  The mentor-mentee relationship is a time-honored tradition at every top tier law firm in the country.”

“It’s a stupid tradition. They’ve all got their Harvard degrees. What do they need me for?”

“Do you actually think Harvard turns out good attorneys?”

“Of course.”

“Wrong. They turn out successful law students, most of whom can’t even locate their own asses when they get out in the real world. We take the raw materials, and shape them into top-notch attorneys. It’s an investment, and a process which builds bonds of loyalty, and in the end our firm is stronger for it.”

“Jessica …”

“The next words out of your mouth had better be, ‘I’ll do it,’ or I’ll withdraw the offer of senior partner.”

“You can’t—”

“Ah, ah.”

Harvey ground his teeth together, rebellious, but knowing when to appear to accept defeat graciously — or semi-graciously. “I’ll do it.” He widened his eyes, willing her to believe him. His plan was to find all the candidates wanting, and send them on their way.

“Donna is under strict orders to make sure you hire someone.”

“That traitor,” he muttered.

“I pay her salary.”

“Except for the part that I pay.”

“Have a nice night. You can pay for our drinks.” She stood up to go, but loomed over him for a moment. “Oh, and Harvey? I look forward to meeting your new mentee.”

“Let’s just call it an associate, okay? Mentee sounds like a demented sea cow.”

“Call it what you like. Just hire one.” Jessica swept out the door.

Harvey ordered another drink, using it to wash away the bad taste in his mouth. All this talk about mentors and mentees was dredging up too many bad memories. When the bartender served his drink, and smiled suggestively at him, he smiled back. She was young, hot, and female. Just the thing to help drive away his building anxiety. An hour later, she clocked off work and he drove her home.

 

******

 

Mike Ross was so far removed from what Jessica expected Harvey to hire, that after he’d done it, and arrived home later that evening, the whole encounter at the Chilton seemed faintly surreal. In the seconds before Mike’s briefcase spilled pot at Harvey’s feet, he’d had an instant to first acknowledge an immediate attraction to him, and then to violently reject it. He’d learned his lesson with Cameron. No co-workers. And no more guys.

And yet … as what had to be one of the strangest interviews in history had progressed, the kid had proven to be wildly entertaining, and so mouth-wateringly smart that Harvey’s teeth hurt. Too bad he wasn’t a real lawyer.

Despite everything, Harvey wanted him, and in the end, he was too tempting to pass up. With his memory, and his brains, Harvey, who had been working grueling hours for too long, could coast a little, while remaining every bit the badass attorney he’d always been.

Their relationship, he decided as he unwound at home with a glass of scotch, would be less mentor/mentee, and more master/slave — in a legal, consensual, corporate law, totally not weird sort of way. Mike would do all the heavy lifting for him, and if any mentoring took place, it would be completely incidental.

It didn’t hurt that, on the surface, he would appear to have obediently followed Jessica’s orders, while the truth was, he had defied her in the most outrageously flagrant manner. It took until his third glass of scotch before the dizzy, breathless, panicked feelings subsided. No one would ever find out what he and Mike had done. It would be fine.

Everything would be fine.

 

 

******

 

The flaw in Harvey’s plan was that Mike Ross was just so … hapless. If anyone had ever needed a mentor, it was him. That, plus the looks he gave Harvey, of frank admiration, bordering on hero worship, had him reconsidering his entire strategy within the first week.

He succeeded in keeping Mike at arm’s length, by turns ignoring him, and vocally scorning his tendency to transform, at a moment’s notice, into an annoying emotional limpet. If the result of this treatment was that Mike believed him to be pathologically lacking in feelings, so much the better.

Mike’s breaking-in period turned out to be every bit as aggravating as Harvey had feared. He made glaring errors in judgment, lied about a crucial patent filing, and allowed Louis to get the upper hand and blackmail him. At the same time, he proved himself to be a tireless, almost machine-like worker. It seemed nothing to him to stay up all night proofing contracts, or scouring discovery documents for the crucial piece that would win them a case. Those moments made all the other bullshit seem worth it.

Then one night, Mike showed up at Harvey’s door, drunk, and smug with the success of his plan to get a list of stock trades Harvey needed for the case on which they were currently working. Harvey snatched the scrap of paper from his grasp, and tried to close the door on him, but Mike was too quick for him, thrusting one leg over the threshold, and not even wincing when the door thumped against him. He was probably too drunk to feel it.

“You can leave now,” said Harvey coldly.

“Aw, don’t be that way. Let me come in and see your place.” He shoved at the door, showing unexpected strength in his string-bean physique, and muscled his way past Harvey, who’d been frozen in place by the shock of Mike’s audacity. “Whoa. This is sweet.”

Teeth grinding together, Harvey closed the door, and leaned against it, steeling himself to deal with his shit-faced associate. Mike dropped down on Harvey’s sofa, hands interlaced across his belly, and grinned up at him.

Something about that guileless smile caught at Harvey’s insides. He ordered himself to ignore the feeling. Stalking around the couch to stare down at Mike, he stifled a growl of frustration.

“Exactly how drunk are you?” he asked. “Scale of one to ten?”

Mike stuck out his lower lip, considering. “I’m half past ‘can I sleep on your couch?’”

“That doesn’t even make — never mind. The answer is absolutely, categorically, definitively, no.”

“ _Dude_. Who hurt you?”

Something cold worked its way through Harvey’s guts. Mike couldn’t know about Cameron. He was only being flippant. “You can’t stay here, because I’m your boss, and how might that look?”

Mike gave him a dirty smile. “How might you want it to look? I’m cool with … I mean, I’m good at keeping secrets. Obviously. What’s one more?” He sat up leaned forward, elbows on knees. “I have skills. I’m more than just my freaky brain. Let me prove it to you.”

Harvey actually considered it — for half a second. Then he stalked away, picking up his phone where he’d left it on the kitchen counter. “I’m calling you a cab. Can you make it downstairs without passing out?”

Harvey wished Mike’s pouty look wasn’t so appealing. He resolutely ignored it, and placed the call.

With a look of defeat, Mike rose and walked, only slightly unsteadily, to the door. Before he opened it, he looked back at Harvey. “But I did good, right? With the stock trades?”

“Yeah, kid. You did good.” He wasn’t sure how much of tonight Mike would remember tomorrow, freaky brain or not, but he felt obliged to give him the warning regardless. “This—” He gestured between them. “This does not happen again. Ever.”

“But, Harvey—”

“No. Get it through your head: you are my associate. Nothing more. That will never change.” He paused. “Say you understand.”

“I don’t.”

“Mike …” The kid’s sad, wide-eyed look was doing unpleasantly pleasant things to him. He ordered himself to ignore those feelings. “I don’t want you that way, and I never will. I’m not into guys, for one thing. And even if I was, I wouldn’t go near an immature kid like you.”

Mike blinked slowly. “I’m getting mixed messages here.”

“Go home. Sober up. I expect you at work tomorrow, on time, and ready to work.”

“But—”

“Goddamn it, Mike. Go.”

Looking as if he was about five seconds away from bursting into tears, Mike yanked the door open, stepped into the hallway, and slammed it behind him.

“Jesus,” Harvey muttered. As brutal as his rejection of Mike felt, he only had to think of Cameron to know he’d done the right thing. He might still drink the same scotch to which his mentor had introduced him, he might still use the same tailor, and base his legal strategies on ones he’s learned from Cameron, but he would be damned if he turned into the manipulative asshole Cameron had been, preying on his young, impressionable associate, and treating him worse than a whore.

He poured himself a drink, thought about it, and made it a double. It was going to take more than a taste tonight to wipe out the bad memories. Another time, he might have gone out, looking for a warm body — a warm _female_ body — to share his bed. Tonight, he was too out of sorts. His hand, when he lifted his drink to his mouth, was trembling.

It continued trembling until he’d consumed half the bottle.

 

******

 

Either Mike did remember Harvey’s warning, or his propositioning had only been a side-effect of his alcohol-addled brain. Whatever the case, there was no repeat performance. Time passed. Mike’s mistakes became fewer. He developed an infatuation with Rachel, the paralegal. Harvey had a visit from his old flame, Scottie, after which she left town, and he could continue pursuing his many one-night stands. Everything seemed to be settling down and slotting neatly into place. Cameron was far in Harvey’s past, and he needn’t ever think of him again.

That’s what he told himself, until one morning months later when he met up with Mike in front of the building, and there was Cameron on the corner, smiling and beckoning Harvey over, as if they’d last seen one another only a day or two ago. As if they hadn’t argued that last time at Cameron’s house, and he hadn’t issued a veiled threat about Harvey’s career. As if Cameron hadn’t used Harvey and betrayed him in the worst way.

With Mike as witness to everything, Harvey plastered a bland smile on his face. A panicked buzzing filled his head, even as he nodded, and replied to Cameron’s inquiries about the firm, and his recent promotion. When Cameron’s attention shifted to Mike, Harvey bristled, fighting off the urge to step between them

“So, this is your Harvey,” Cameron quipped, eying Mike up and down.

“No,” snapped Harvey. “It’s nothing like that.”

“Forgive me if I have my doubts. He looks like a real gem.” Seeming to dismiss Mike, Cameron turned his full attention back to Harvey. “We should have dinner, you and I. Catch up.”

Cameron wanted something from him. No way had he just happened to be on the corner near their building. He needed to find out what he was up to, but questioning him in front of Mike might prove to be dangerous. “Fine. Dinner. Tonight? At your usual spot?”

“It’s a date.”

_No, it_ _’s not._ He watched Cameron turn, and disappear up the crowded sidewalk. “He shaved off his mustache,” he muttered to himself.

“What? How do you even know that guy?”

“Not important.”

“Harvey …”

“Not. Important. Let’s go. Have you figured out how we’re going to beat Louis yet?”

As they headed for the lobby, Mike launched into a lengthy explanation of how he intended to best Louis at his own game. Harvey nodded, even as he tuned out most of Mike’s chatter. His mind was on Cameron. What the hell could he possibly want from Harvey after all these years?

 

******

 

Harvey didn’t learn the answer from Cameron. He learned it from Alexandra Leeds of the Attorney General’s office, who ambushed him as soon as he walked into the restaurant. She was looking to take Cameron down, she told him, and wished to recruit Harvey to help her do it. If he didn’t get on board with that, she was just as happy to destroy his career, along with Cameron’s.

Maybe cooperating would have been the smart thing to do. It didn’t sit right in his gut, though. He might not owe Cameron his loyalty, but the habit was too strongly ingrained, and too much of his base-level makeup for him to flip on his old boss.

He could see Cameron upstairs, waiting at his regular table, and thought about turning around and walking out on him, even though he knew that wouldn’t solve anything. Feeling as if every nerve and muscle and sinew in his body was stretched and humming with anxiety, he climbed the stairs and lifted a hand in greeting when Cameron spotted him.

He hesitated before sitting across the table from him. “I’m not staying for dinner.”

“Why the hell not? We haven’t seen one another for years, and you can’t spare me an hour to get caught up? Looks to me like you didn’t learn one of the most important lessons I tried to teach you.”

“Yeah? And what lesson is that?”

“Don’t burn your bridges. You might find yourself swimming in crocodile infested waters.”

Harvey glowered at him.

“Oh, come on, Harvey. Unbend a little. At least have a drink with me. For old times’ sake.”

Despite everything, Harvey was impressed by how easily Cameron put on the mask. Harvey knew him too well, though, and knew better than anyone what lay behind that glib exterior. “One drink,” he agreed.

Cameron signaled the waiter, and Harvey ordered.

“Still drinking the Macallan, eh Harvey? That’s one lesson that stuck, anyway.”

“You want to know why I still drink it?”

“Sentimentality?”

“You can’t be serious. No, the reason I still drink it is to remind myself of who I don’t want to become.”

“By drinking the best scotch on the planet? I don’t follow.”

Harvey didn’t owe him an explanation, and was far past caring what he thought about him, but he was pissed off enough that he wanted him to know.

“I taste the flowers, and that reminds me how bright and sweet things were between us when I first came to work for you. And then darker notes of peat and smoke follow, and I think of all your dirty behavior, and how everything I thought was good and noble about you turned out to be nothing more than smoke and mirrors.”

His drink arrived, and he lifted it to his mouth, sipping and retaining eye contact with Cameron, who was watching him with an arrested expression.

“Why, Harvey, that’s almost … poetic. You’ve got me all wrong, though. I am noble. More noble than you, slaving away for your corporate clients, when you could still be with me, putting away the bad guys and making the world a better place.”

“By cheating and making up your own rules? Is that why Alexandra Leeds was downstairs, waiting to pounce on me the second I walked through the door?”  He waited, but Cameron didn’t have a ready reply for that. He could see, though, that the mention of Leeds did not surprise him. “Tell me, how long did you have to wait at the corner this morning, to ‘accidentally’ bump into me?”

Cameron didn’t bother lying. His smile was as smug and smarmy as Harvey remembered. “Ten minutes. It worked though, didn’t it? Here we are.”

Harvey tossed back the rest of his drink. “Say what you have to say, and make it quick. I have places to be.”

“All right. I asked you here to impart a friendly warning. Keep your mouth shut about anything you think you know about your time at the DA’s office.”

“She’s talking about putting me in front of a grand jury. I won’t perjure myself for you.”

“Without your testimony, she can’t prove a thing.”

“Goddamn it, Cameron.”

“It’s gut check time, kiddo.” He raised his glass. “Here’s to hoping corporate law hasn’t made you soft.” He drank, and then lowered his voice. “Although, as I seem to recall, remaining soft was never your problem, was it?”

Harvey’s hands curled into fists. He growled and shot to his feet, desperate to be as far away from his former mentor as he could get, before he did something that would get him arrested.

 

******

 

Donna didn’t come right out and say, “I told you so,” but it was written all over her face.

“Throw him under the bus,” she advised. “If you need someone there to help you push, consider me on board. You don’t owe him a damn thing.”

“It’s not about that. It’s about loyalty.”

“Is that really the hill you want to die on?”

“Discussion over.”

She looked as if she had plenty more to say, but she left him to his work. At the moment, he was surrounded by boxes of his cases from the DA’s office, meticulously searching for any more evidence of Cameron’s misdeeds.

It took Mike to remind him that he was limiting his options where Cameron was concerned. Sometimes, Harvey regretted giving Mike the whole “Gun to Your Head” speech. This time, it might have paid off.

That evening, Harvey checked out a Tesla from his car club, and made the familiar drive to Scarsdale. Cameron met him outside in the garden, which was a relief. He hadn’t been sure he could force himself to step foot inside Cameron’s home.

“Resign,” Harvey urged him, “and this all goes away.”

“What makes you think Leeds will let it go so easily?”

“Because what she and her employers want is a new regime in the DA’s office. They want you out, not behind bars — unless that’s the only option you give them.”

Cameron sniffed, and plucked faded brown flowers from an azalea bush. “Politics. It’s a fucking snake pit.”

“Which is why you should get out. Retire. Take a little time for yourself.”

He eyed Harvey shrewdly. “Says the man who has everything to lose, and nothing to gain by me staying.”

“I’m warning you—”

“You’re warning me? _You_ _’re_ warning _me?_ Get real. You possess zero leverage over me. Any accusations you make are going to come right back and bite you in the ass.” Cameron smiled, eyes going unfocused. “Which reminds me of that time—”

“Do not finish that thought, unless you want me to put you on your back. The grand jury is getting closer as we speak, and I’m beginning to think disbarment would be worth the pleasure of watching you get exactly what you deserve.”

“Is it crazy that I’m a little aroused right now?”

“Jesus, don’t you ever turn it off?” He turned to walk back to his car.

Cameron followed him. “I’m serious. Wouldn’t you like to come inside for a few minutes? For old times’ sake?”

Harvey whirled around. “For old times’ sake? You keep saying that, like there is anything in our mutual past to celebrate, or about which I should be nostalgic. Newsflash: there isn’t. I’ve spent the last ten years trying my best to blot out any memories of our time together, professional or personal. Everything about us was a mistake.”

“Surely—”

“Mistake. All of it.”

Cameron, damn him, couldn’t seem to let it go. “A mistake? Is that why you still drink my scotch? And use the tailor I set you up with? Or why you put the same brand of gel in your hair? That’s right. I can smell it from here. Ha. I’ll bet you even went so far as to seduce that sweet little associate of yours, so you could experience the same rush of power I always got when I put you on your knees, just before I fucked you.”

Harvey was past rational thought. He swung wildly, striking Cameron on his chin, and sending him to the ground in a graceless heap. He stood over him, chest heaving, fists clenching and unclenching, fighting off the urge to kick him in the ribs, and keep kicking him.

“Keep Mike’s name out of your filthy mouth,” he snarled. Walking away, he threw himself behind the wheel of the Tesla, but before he could get the door shut, he clearly heard Cameron’s parting shot.

“I trained you well, Harvey. You’re just like me, whether you choose to admit it or not.”

 

******

 

The solution to the thorny problem of Cameron Dennis, and Alexandra Leeds, turned out to be as simple as Donna stepping in and executing the betrayal that Harvey had refused to perform himself. Going behind his back, she turned over the receipts to Jessica, who used them to strong arm Cameron into backing down and resigning. This should have brought the whole episode to a close, allowing Harvey to once again slam the door on that part of his past, and securely bolt the door.

Then he discovered Clifford Danner’s letter, which would have likely exonerated him if Cameron hadn’t buried it. As soon as Mike was brought up to speed on the case, he was right there beside Harvey the entire time, visiting Clifford in prison, and talking him into going forward with the case, even at the risk of serving more time. Harvey suspected it was personal for Mike. Maybe he feared ending up where Clifford was some day.

It was Mike’s idea to enlist Trevor’s help to get one of the frat boys to turn on the other. Miraculously, it worked like a charm. The day Clifford was set free, it seemed only natural to take Mike up on his offer of a celebratory drink at the bar across the street from the courthouse. It was Harvey’s mistake that he’d forgotten how Mike got when he had too much to drink.

“C’mon, Harvey.” Mike slid closer in the booth, bumping elbows with him. “I’ve seen the way you look at me sometimes. You feel it too. Admit it.”

Harvey edged away from him. “Are we going to have this discussion every time you have too much to drink?”

“No, but …” Mike slid after him, and trailed his fingers up and down Harvey’s arm. “We have to at least give it a try, right? Just to, you know, see what we’d be missing out on.”

Harvey gave an involuntary shiver at Mike’s touch, and knew that Mike had felt it when his eyes lit with triumph.

“Ah ha,” said Mike. “That. Right there. You want me. I can tell.”

“You can’t tell shit.” Harvey shifted away from Mike again, and then signaled the waiter, who hustled over to the booth. “We’ll take two coffees, and the check, please.”

Mike frown-pouted down at the table top. “We wouldn’t be hurting anybody.”

“Are you forgetting about Rachel?”

“ _Pfft._ She hates me. That’s never going to happen.”

“Well, neither is this. What did I tell you last time?”

A huffy sigh. “No co-workers, and no guys.”

“There you go. Take no for an answer.”

Mike appeared to mull that over for a few minutes. When the coffee arrived, he stirred in obscene quantities of sugar and cream, and sipped obediently. His glance darted to Harvey, and away, and back again, before he mustered the nerve to say what he wanted to. “Can I ask you something?”

“As long as it’s not another clumsy come-on.”

“What did Cameron mean?”

_Intruder detected at perimeter._

Ignoring the warning sirens in his mind, Harvey replied casually, “About what?”

“He said I was your Harvey.”

“And?”

“And then …” Mike’s gaze went unfocused as he seemed to play the conversation back in his head. Mike being Mike, of course he remembered it perfectly. “And then you said, ‘it’s nothing like that.’”

Harvey shrugged. “Your point?”

“What did you mean by that? Because if you worked for Cameron, if you were his associate, then that is exactly the same thing, isn’t? Which means I am your Harvey.”

The conversation was giving Harvey a headache. He took a sip of black coffee, and checked his watch.

“So,” Mike continued, as if working out a tortuous math problem, “if it was, quote, ‘nothing like that,’ I can only conclude that your relationship with Cameron contained another element, or elements, which ours does not.” He paused, his gaze on Harvey clear and bright and sharp as a diamond. “How am I doing?”

Two things occurred to Harvey as he searched for a response. First, Mike wasn’t nearly as drunk as he’d believed. And second, he must have been pondering these questions for the past few weeks, and had likely come to his own conclusions.

“You know what?” Harvey reached for his wallet, and threw several bills down onto the table. “This is starting to feel less like a celebration, and more like an ambush. Why don’t you take the weekend to get your head on straight?”

He stood and headed for the exit, with Mike right at his heels.

“My head is on just fine, Harvey. People sometimes mistake me for a naive idiot, but you know better, don’t you?”

Out on the sidewalk, Harvey signaled frantically for a cab, wishing he hadn’t already dismissed Ray for the weekend. A light rain was falling, so of course no taxis were available.

“Harvey.” Mike grabbed his arm, and Harvey roughly shook him off. “Would you talk to me, please?”

“There’s nothing to talk about. Whatever you think you’ve figured out, you’re mistaken.”

Harvey strode down the sidewalk, striving to put distance between them. As always, Mike proved persistent. He kept pace with Harvey, seemingly prepared to shadow him all the way home.

“You want me to let this go, but I’m not going to. There’s something going on, and I want to know what it is.”

Harvey stopped so abruptly, that Mike was several steps beyond him before he noticed. He pivoted, and walked back to face Harvey.

“Don’t you mean,” Harvey ground out, “that you _demand_ to know? As if you have any right? As if you actually believe we are … what? Friends? You’re delusional, Mike. We are not friends. That’s not what this is.” He saw Mike’s face crumple, and softened his tone. “I’m sorry. I get that most of your family is gone, and your best friend has proven to be a colossal disappointment. But you need to look elsewhere to fill that void in your life. I’m not that person. I’m not your friend, and I’m damn sure not your boyfriend. Stop following me. Go home and get your mind right.”

For a moment, he believed that his strategy of “throw rocks at the stray” had worked. Mike stared at him, stricken, all color seemingly leached from his face. Then his too-sharp perception and inconvenient intelligence asserted itself. Understanding flashed in his eyes. Understanding and compassion.

It was the compassion that was nearly Harvey’s undoing.

“What did he do to you?” Mike asked, stepping closer.

Harvey had no ready answer to that. The best he could muster was an indignant, “What?”

“I know he fucked with your cases, but it was more than that, wasn’t it?”

“Mike, I don’t—”

“You were obviously sleeping with him.”

Harvey started walking again, brushing roughly past Mike. He didn’t look backwards to see how long Mike continued to follow him, but he heard him, breathing hard to keep up. Eventually, he didn’t hear him any longer, and when he glanced back, Mike was gone.

 

******

 

 

What was supposed to be a weekend of celebrating the Danner victory, and moving forward with no more shadows from his past, turned into a marathon session of introspection, self-recrimination, regret, and heavy drinking.

_Fucking Cameron Dennis,_ he sneered into his glass of Macallan 18. Tonight, all he tasted was smoke and ash and dirt. He downed the shot, grimacing, and considered hurling the glass across the room, to watch it shatter against the far well. Except it was expensive cut crystal, and would be more likely to damage the wall.

It was Sunday, and he would have to face Mike in the morning. “That goddamned kid,” as Jessica liked to refer to him. Mike’s genius brain could be exhilarating to witness in action, but having it turned against oneself so incisively? Not exhilarating. Not enjoyable.

Harvey never should have fled the way he did. He should have stood firm, and argued Mike down into the ground, exposing all his speculation as the wild maundering of a drunk. Why hadn’t he done that? Why …

He lurched to his feet and paced restlessly around his living room. He’d frozen, that was why. Mike’s questions had cut too close to the truth, and he’d panicked. Which made no sense. He’d lived with his denials for ten years. Why now?

But of course he knew the answer to that. Because it was Mike. Because he wanted Mike, but he couldn’t risk … what?

He knew the answer to that, too. He couldn’t risk, inadvertently or not, causing Mike to one day feel about him the way he did about Cameron. That thought panicked him even more than the notion of never allowing himself to admit his real feelings for Mike.

 

******

 

Monday morning, Jessica summoned Harvey to her office.

“I had an interesting visitor last Friday evening,” she told him.

In no mood for guessing games, Harvey arched an eyebrow, and waited.

“I believe you know him. Trevor Evans? A friend of Mike Ross. Although Mike might not consider him a friend after you tell him why you’re firing him.”

Harvey’s heart seemed to stop inside his chest, before starting up again in a sickening, lurching rhythm. “Fire Mike? Why would I do that.”

She stood, arms crossed, and glared down at him. “Because, you stupid, arrogant, son-of-a-bitch, I gave you the opportunity to hire an associate, and instead, you hired a goddamn fraud.”

He had no defense against that stark truth. Instead, he said the first thing that came to his mind. “I’m not firing Mike. If you want to round up enough partners to vote me out, you go right ahead. Until then, he stays.”

She frowned at him, brows drawn down. “Why?”

“Why, what? Why did I hire him?”

“For starters. Also, why choose him over me? Over the firm?”

“It’s about loyalty. I’m his mentor, and—”

“His mentor?” Jessica’s frown deepened. “Harvey, you sat right where you are now, the night before your associate interviews, and rejected the whole notion of becoming a mentor. Now, you expect me to believe that you’ve done a complete reversal?”

“You don’t believe I care about the kid?”

“Oh, I believe you care about him. You obviously care about him far too much.”

“I should think you’d be pleased.”

Jessica appeared to consider her next words carefully. “I might be, if you hadn’t put my firm in jeopardy by hiring him.” Her gaze sharpened. “Are you sleeping with him?”

“What? No.”

“Really? Because I’m starting to detect a strong whiff of history repeating itself.”

His breath caught in his throat. She didn’t know. How could she know? “What the hell are you talking about?”

Instead of answering him directly, she turned and stalked to the window, gazing out over the high-rises of downtown Manhattan. “You already know this, but your assistant is an extremely perceptive individual.”

“Donna?” He stared at her blankly.

“Did you also know that she didn’t just give me the evidence I needed to handle Cameron Dennis for you? She also filled in a few blanks regarding your sudden departure from the district attorney’s office.”

Sudden buzzing filled Harvey’s head, like a million wasps fighting to break free. “Is that so?” he heard himself say, as if the carefully constructed lie of the past ten years wasn’t cracking at the foundations, and about to come crashing down around him.

“It is. She told me about you and Cameron.”

Possible responses ping-ponged crazily among the wasps: _Did she? She_ _’s lying. I have no idea what you’re talking about._

He stood up, ordering himself not to sway, not to display any sign of weakness. “I’m not discussing this with you.”

“Harvey, sit down.”

He stared at her, breathing rapidly, debating the merits of fight versus flight.

She took a step toward him, in a move that would have appeared menacing, if not for the warm concern in her eyes.

“Sit down. Before you fall down.”

He sat, keeping his gaze fixed on a spot at the edge of her desk.

“Donna didn’t share a lot of details. Maybe she doesn’t know them. You want to know what I think?”

No, he categorically, emphatically, did not.

“I think you got in over your head with Cameron. Maybe he seduced you, or you were that much in awe of him, or that fond of him, that you went into the relationship willingly.”

“This,” he said stiffly, “is none of your business.”

“Isn’t it? I don’t need the details to see that he screwed with your head big time. He perverted the whole idea of being a mentor so much, that you went out of your way to hire completely outside the whole system. And then — my God, the tragedy and the farce of it all — you went and developed feelings for the little fraud.”

“You are way off base. If you must know, I hired Mike because he is a fucking, certifiable genius. Don’t believe me? Sit him down sometime and quiz him on the law, and statutes and precedent. Not even you can best him on that, because he’s a goddamn machine. For your information, working with him has made me a better lawyer. He’s contributed to the firm in ways you don’t even know. Feelings? Not so much. The only feelings I get for him are shock and awe. I’ll tell you right now that if you fire him, I’ll go straight to the ethics committee and claim you knew the whole time that he wasn’t a legitimate lawyer. I’ll take you down, and I’ll burn this whole fucking firm to the ground, if you try to get rid of him.”

Jessica’s eyebrow lifted delicately, and an enigmatic smile played over her lips. “I see. And just to reiterate, you have no other feelings for him. Is that right?” She started to laugh, a low, silvery sound. “You know what? I’ve changed my mind. I want to keep him around, just to watch you tie yourself into knots over your feelings, which you claim not to have. That should be punishment enough for creating this whole mess.”

Objectively, he knew he’d won, but it didn’t feel much like a win. He felt exposed, humiliated, and ashamed. Jessica knew him as well as anybody did, but his past with Cameron was one thing he’d never wanted her to know about. Moving stiffly, he stood up.

“Are we done here?”

“Hmm. For now.”

He’d taken two steps toward the door before she stopped him again. “Go easy on Donna. She was only looking out for you.”

He bit back a growl, and left her office.

As much as Harvey wanted to head straight for Donna, and let her know precisely what he thought about her meddling, he decided to take this one bit of advice from Jessica, and cool off before he confronted her. It was still pouring outside, so he prowled aimlessly up and down the halls of Pearson Hardman, passing offices, and conference rooms, and coffee nooks. His steps led him to the associates’ bullpen, but Mike wasn’t at his desk. Harvey recalled now, after Louis won him in their stupid bet, he’d farmed Mike out to some other partner.

He changed direction, and went to find Louis.

 

******

 

Harvey finally located Mike two floors down, stuck away in the back of a workroom stuffed with boxes, and overheated from the copy machine spitting out reams of documents for him to proof. Mike was hunched over a table, holding his head up with one hand while he sped through each page, flipped to the next one, and kept going, looking every inch the machine Harvey had named him.

When he finally glanced up to find Harvey standing there, hands in his pockets, staring down at him, he dropped his highlighter, and tugged out his ear buds. “Harvey.”

“There’s something you need to know.” He sat down across from Mike.

“Did Louis agree to end my exile early?”

“What? No. Not that. It’s about Jessica.” He watched Mike closely as he broke the news. “She knows. About you, and Harvard.”

Mike’s eyes widened. “You told her?”

“Of course not.”

“She figured it out on her own? Who else knows? Am I fired? Am I going to jail?”

“Calm down. No one else knows. And she did not figure it out on her own. It was your so-called friend, Trevor. What did you do to him, anyway?”

Mike gave a vague wave, gaze unfocused as he processed the new information. “I might have slept with his ex-girlfriend. I guess he found out.”

“And here, I thought you were supposed to be such a fucking genius.” Harvey didn’t even try to hide his anger, which was partly due to finding out that Mike had told Trevor their secret, and partly from the hot spike of jealousy at the thought of Mike with pretty, blonde Jenny.

Harvey’s anger did not seem to register with Mike, who was too busy freaking out about Jessica. “What do I do? Seriously, am I fired? Do I need to leave town? Shit, did she send you here to get me?”

“Again, calm down. No, you’re not fired. I handled Jessica. Just stay here, doing whatever bullshit busy work Porter has you doing, and keep your head down. I don’t doubt there will be a reckoning with Jessica eventually, but the longer we can delay it, the less angry she’ll be.” That was the theory, anyway.

Mike slumped over the table, resting his forehead on the heels of his hands. “Maybe I should quit. This is insane.” He raised his head and pinned Harvey with his tortured gaze. “Remind me why we ever thought this was a good idea. Because if Jessica decides to turn me in …”

“She won’t do that.”

“How can you know for sure? How did you handle her? Can she even be handled? She never struck me as handleable. Is that a word? What did you say to her?”

“I used the same line on her that you used on me when I tried to fire you on your first day.”

Mike continued to stare, unblinking, and then turned his head and let out a cynical sounding laugh. “Wow. Okay. So, I should just …”

“You should just carry on as usual.”

“Until the other shoe inevitably falls.”

Harvey worked his jaw back and forth, trying not to smile. “Yeah. Until then.”

He got up to leave, but Mike’s small voice stopped him.

“Harvey? I’m sorry about Friday night. I was way out of line.”

With this newest crisis, Harvey had nearly managed to put that out of his mind. “Don’t worry about it. Let’s just keep our eye on the ball, okay?”

“Okay.”

 

******

 

The other shoe arrived not long afterward in the person of Daniel Hardman. In his mind, Harvey had frequently referred to him as the “anti-mentor,” not to mention the “anti-Christ.” Hardman’s wife had finally died, and Hardman didn’t waste any time scheming to worm his way back into the firm.

One upside of Hardman’s attack was that Jessica was forced to accept Mike’s presence at the firm. She needed all the allies she could find, even first year associates who had never gone to law school. In between taking action to woo the rest of the partners away from Hardman and into Jessica’s camp, Harvey didn’t have much time to dwell on either the recent dust-up with Cameron, or his complicated relationship with Mike.

He’d continued letting Mike work for Louis and Porter, and anyone else who showed an interest in the “boy wonder.” Mike might complain, but as far as Harvey was concerned, it was a relief to put some distance between them for now. That relief turned to outrage when it became clear that Hardman had set his sights on Mike.

Harvey might have missed earlier signs, but then one morning Mike came waltzing into his office with a ridiculous pineapple-on-a-stick, rhapsodizing about Hardman and his exciting plans for the firm, and Harvey could no longer ignore what was happening.

“Get that fruit out of my face,” he snapped, hardening his heart to Mike’s look of confused hurt.

“Wow. Who pissed in your Wheaties this morning?”

“Nobody. But if anybody did, my primary suspect would be Daniel Hardman.”

Harvey did not care for the cagey look on Mike’s face.

“He said you would think that. Well, not the Wheaties pissing thing specifically, but he’s acknowledged that he lost your trust, and Jessica’s. He’s a changed man, though, and he’s going to work to earn it back.”

“You got all that from one staff meeting?”

“That, plus the private meeting I had with him afterward.”

Harvey’s stomach gave an unpleasant lurch. “Private meeting? Tell me about that. Tell me everything.”

“Whoa. Calm down. It was only to say that he’s heard good things about me, and hopes we can work together.”

That didn’t sound so bad, but with Hardman, there was always something more. “And?” he prompted.

“He offered to act as my mentor.”

This simple statement short-circuited Harvey’s brain, and rendered him momentarily speechless. “No, Mike,” he managed to get out. “That is a terrible idea. The man is poison.”

“Maybe he used to be, but—”

“No. No buts. I forbid you to work for him, or allow him to mentor you in any capacity.”

“You forbid?” In what was probably meant to be a show of defiance, Mike took a huge bite out of the pineapple, and chomped all the way around it, until his cheeks were stuffed full, and he held only an empty stick.

“You heard me.”

They both had to wait for Mike’s reply while he chewed, and chewed some more, and finally swallowed noisily.

“What the hell did he do to you, anyway?” Mike’s eyes widened. “Oh, my God. Was it another Cameron situation?”

How could Mike make him so angry in the space of only a few seconds? “Absolutely not. And there was no Cameron situation, at least not the way you mean it.”

“Then tell me: how can you expect me to make an informed choice if I don’t have all the facts?”

“The only choice you need to make, is whether you’re going to show me that same loyalty I showed you when I prevented Jessica from firing your ass.”

Mike actually growled at that. “How can you ask for my loyalty, when you won’t trust me with the truth?”

_Ugh._ The kid had gotten way too good at arguing a point.

“Okay,” said Harvey, “fine. Here’s the truth about Hardman. While his wife was sick and dying, he had an affair with an employee, and then he stole money from the firm to give to his mistress. Jessica and I found out about it, and the price of us not bringing him up on charges, and more importantly, not telling his wife everything, was that he would leave the firm and never come back.”

Mike nodded slowly. “So, when his wife died, the main part of your leverage disappeared.”

“Yahtzee.”

“Huh.” Mike was quiet, digesting what he’d just learned. “So …” He gave Harvey a careful look. “Hardman slept with an employee, Cameron Dennis slept with an employee—”

“Goddamn it, Mike.”

“And you want to prove how morally superior you are to them by keeping me at arm’s length.”

“My God, you’re exhausting. Get out. You know what? If you want to throw yourself at Hardman, be my guest. I don’t think you’re his type, but maybe he’ll make an exception for you, if only to stick a thumb in my eye.”

“And there it is, right there. No way could this be about me, and my abilities. You have to make it about yourself. Well, maybe if you’d ever bothered to be an actual mentor to me, I wouldn’t have to go looking elsewhere.”

“Just as long as that’s all you’re looking for.”

They glared at one another, until Harvey looked away first, down at his computer screen. “Close the door on your way out,” he said.

“But we’re not done—”

“You’re mistaken. We are done. Completely.”

“That’s not—”

“Not what? Not what you intended? Not what you wanted? Too bad, because that’s what you got. Get. Out.”

Mike’s attitude of angry defiance slipped, revealing frustration and befuddlement. Harvey ordered himself not to be affected by Mike’s face, and typed rapidly on his keyboard, although it was only random, nonsensical letters. Finally, Mike got the message, and left Harvey’s office.

 

******

 

Harvey refused to think of Mike with Hardman, or to consider all the ways in which he could be lured to the dark side. Mike was an adult. He could make his own decisions. Harvey had warned him, in the plainest possible terms, and if Mike chose to disregard the warning, that was on him.

He most definitely did not lie awake at night, worrying that Hardman would ferret out Mike’s secret. And he did not wonder if Mike would find anything about him attractive. Hardman might be a scruffy little hobbit of a man, but he could turn on the charm when he wanted to, meaning whenever it benefited him. Even if there was no sexual attraction (Harvey grimaced just considering Daniel in that way), Mike was likely ripe for a father figure. He’d talked about wanting a mentor. Had it been a mistake, he wondered, to completely reject that idea? Maybe if Cameron hadn’t ruined that word for him forever …

It didn’t help that Hardman’s takeover plans appeared to be taking shape, and Harvey was in doubt about his own future at the firm. Would Mike show him any loyalty if he was voted out? Or would he side with Hardman? Considering that possibility had him snappish and short-tempered. Donna took the brunt of his anger. She’d taken on a permanent mutinous expression, and Harvey half-expected her to quit at any moment. He was still annoyed with her for going to Jessica about Cameron, and didn’t think he would get over that anytime soon.

He’d managed to keep his distance from Hardman, but when he had the gall to interfere with one of Harvey’s cases, he’d had enough. Seething, he strode down the hall to his office, only to find Mike there, sitting in one of the visitor chairs, with Hardman perched on the edge of the desk, leaning close to Mike while they shared a laugh at something one of them had just said.

When they noticed Harvey in the doorway, Hardman looked up, eyes shining with malice.

“Harvey. How can we help you?”

_We?_

“You can start by staying the hell away from Jace Winslow.”

“Why should we? At dinner last night, he confessed that he didn’t believe you were giving him the level of attention his lawsuit requires.”

“It’s getting the exact amount of attention it requires.”

“Well. Maybe between the three of us, we can keep him from shopping around for a new firm. What do you think, Mike?”

Hardman laid his hand on Mike’s shoulder, and Harvey wrestled down the urge to slap it away.

“Daniel has a lot of good ideas,” said Mike. “In fact, we’re having a strategy session at his house this weekend.”

Harvey’s vision whited out for half a second. “You’re … _what?_ ”

“That’s right,” Daniel added. “We figured we could accomplish so much more without all the distractions of the office.”

A hundred objections raced through Harvey’s head, none of which would hold any water with Daniel. He blurted, without thinking it through, “I need Mike this weekend.”

“Harvey.” Daniel rearranged his face into the smarmy, fake-regretful expression at which he excelled. “You gave Mike to me, remember? No take-backs.”

“No — what is this, middle school? I loaned Mike to you, but he’s still my associate, and I have an assignment for him which supersedes your plot to poach my client.”

“Why don’t we let Mike decide?”

“Are you shitting me?”

“Not at all. I say we put him on the floor, we both call him, and see which one he comes to.”

Mike frowned at this, blinking rapidly. “Uh, hello? I’m sitting right here?”

“And that is the problem,” said Harvey. “You should be on your feet, following me out of here.” He snapped his fingers, which, in retrospect, was probably not the wisest thing he could have done, because Mike’s frown deepened.

“I’m not following you, Harvey. I’m with Daniel now. Any other associate would be thrilled to work with you — terrified down to their skeleton, but thrilled nonetheless.”

Harvey itched to slap Daniel’s smug grin off his face. “This isn’t over,” he said, all too aware that it sounded like the toothless bluster it was.

“If you say so.” Daniel gave him a wave as Harvey turned to go.

 

******

 

“What do you expect me to do?” asked Jessica.

“You’re still the managing partner.”

“For now.”

“I need you to order Mike to work my cases, not Daniel’s.”

“First of all, I was given to understand that the main point of contention is a case which you share with him.”

“Only because he went behind my back.”

“And secondly, since when have I been expected to fight your battles for you?”

He huffed in annoyance. She wasn’t wrong. “Well, then, do you at least have some advice for me?”

She opened her mouth, closed it again, and her gaze sharpened. “There is one thing you might try.”

“I’m all ears.”

“You could threaten to share Mike’s secret with Daniel.”

He gaped at her. “Are you insane? That’s all the leverage Daniel would need to win the vote next week.”

“I’m not suggesting you actually follow through on the threat. Just make it, and see what happens. If I’ve read that kid like I think I have, he’ll cave quickly enough.”

Harvey wasn’t so sure. Mike could be ridiculously hard-headed when he wanted to be. Unfortunately, he didn’t have any better ideas. “I’ll think about it.”

“Good. Now, more importantly, how are Porter and Blythe looking?”

“It’s a process. I’ll get their votes, though. I promise.”

“You’d better come through on that promise, or in another week, we’ll both be out on the street.”

 

******

 

Harvey took the night to think about it, and came to the conclusion that Jessica had the right idea. Now, once again, he found himself searching the firm for Mike. The first place he checked was Daniel’s office, but neither of them were there. Mike wasn’t in the bullpen, or in the three workrooms into which Harvey poked his head. As a last resort, he grudgingly asked Donna if she knew anything.

Her face went still and solemn. “You haven’t heard?”

“Heard what?”

“His grandmother died.”

Harvey winced. “Ah, shit. That poor kid.”

“I know, right? When he got the news, Hardman sent him straight home.”

That was … surprisingly compassionate. It wasn’t even remotely the solution Harvey would have asked for, but it did at least get Mike away from Daniel for a day or two.

A day or two turned into several days. Was Mike planning to return? Harvey ignored Donna’s reproachful, meaningful glares for as long as he could, and then conceded defeat, calling Ray to pick him up for a trip to Brooklyn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

Harvey, waited, and knocked again, louder. When there was still no answer, he lifted his fist and pounded on Mike’s door, steady and rhythmic. The booming echoed up and down the hallway.

“Hey. Hey, hey. He’s not in there. You’re going to hurt your hand.”

Harvey froze with his hand poised above the door, and turned his head to find Jenny … whatever her last name was, standing behind him with a key in her hand, which made him irrationally angry. It also raised several questions: why did she have a key to Mike’s apartment, and Harvey didn’t? Was Mike seeing her again? And if Mike wasn’t here, where the hell was he? Instead of asking any of these, he glared at her.

Jenny let out an exasperated sounding huff. “Come inside with me, before one of Mike’s asshole neighbors phones in a noise complaint.”

She nudged him aside, unlocked the door, and went inside. Harvey followed.

“Mike called me this morning,” she explained, heading for the bedroom. “He needs a clean suit for Edith’s memorial service this afternoon.” She stopped in front of the closet, and turned to give him a piercing look. “So why are you here? I thought Mike was staying with you?”

“Obviously not. Why would you think that?”

Frowning, she began pawing through Mike’s clothes. “Maybe because he said so?” She gave him a quick side eye. “You don’t need to scowl at me like that. I’m just repeating what Mike said, and I quote, ‘I’m staying with my boss in Eastchester for a couple of days.’ End quote. I’m guessing you don’t live in Eastchester?”

“I do not.”

 Daniel Hardman lived in Eastchester. Harvey knew this, because he had visited his home after his wife died. It was a toss-up as to what angered him the most: that Mike had called Daniel his boss, or that he was staying in his home.

_I_ _’m starting to detect a strong whiff of history repeating itself._ That’s what Jessica had said. He was beginning to see her point.

Stricken, Harvey considered the implications. Was Daniel making a play for Mike that was more than professional? He doubted that Daniel had any interest in sleeping with Mike, but he wouldn’t put it past him to mess with his head, simply to get to Harvey. Would he do that now, when Mike was at his most vulnerable? Half a second of thought told Harvey that yes, Daniel would not hesitate to do precisely that. He always searched out the tenderest weaknesses to exploit.

Harvey glanced over at Jenny, and then moved beside her and brushed her hands away. “That tie with that suit?” he said in a scandalized voice. “Are you colorblind?” He grabbed the suit out of her hands, and added a shirt, tie, and shoes. “Today is your lucky day. I’m going to save you a drive to Eastchester.”

“Oh. Okay. That’s cool.” She gave him a vapid smile, which he suspected concealed a great deal. “Cool.” She shifted her feet. “Can I be honest with you, Mr. Specter?”

He was anxious to be on his way, but forced himself to take a moment, and give her what he hoped was a semi-charming smile. “Certainly. If you’ll call me Harvey.”

“Harvey, then. Um.” She twisted her mouth, and bit her lip. “Mike would kill me if he knew I was telling you this, but he really likes you. I mean, really. _Really._ ”

“Ah. Well, I like him, too. He’s a good kid.”

“I don’t think you understand. He doesn’t just think you’re a good guy. In fact, he might not even think that at all. But in spite of what a dick you are to him, every single day, to hear him tell it, he still likes you. He, uh, he is, I don’t know, infatuated with you, I guess. Or more. It could be more. I’m almost positive it’s more.”

“Jenny …”

“Yes, it’s definitely way more. I thought it was Rachel that torpedoed our relationship — and by the way, you don’t have to worry about me, because it was more of a fling than a relationship — but he doesn’t talk about her anymore, not like he used to. Now, it’s all ‘Harvey this,’ and ‘Harvey that,’ although to be completely accurate, it’s more like, ‘goddamn Harvey this,’ and ‘fucking Harvey that.’ No offense.”

“None taken, I’m sure.” He had his hand on the doorknob. “Are you finished?”

“I don’t know. Do you need more convincing?” She laughed nervously. “Oh, God, why are you looking at me like that?”

“I’m not — Listen, I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt and assume you mean well, but none of this is any of your business.”

“Mike’s my friend, so I’m going to have to call bullshit on that.” She took a step toward him, frowning like an angry kitten. “I’m thinking maybe I should ask what your intentions are toward him?”

“My _intentions_?”

“Yeah, like, are you here to be a friend and help him deal with his loss, or are you here because you need his help on a case, or whatever?”

“Again, how is that any of your business?”

“Asked and answered.” She smiled cheekily. “Counselor.”

He let out an involuntary chuff of laughter. “Somebody’s been watching a little too much Perry Mason.”

“Law and Order, actually. Geez, exactly how old are you?”

“Old enough not to have to stand here and play, ‘do you like him, or like-like him’ with you.”

Her eyes shone with mischief. “I think it’s option number two. And I think the sooner you admit it to yourself, the sooner you’ll both be happy. Or as happy as you type A lawyer types ever get.”

“Are you finished?”

“I’ve said my piece.”

“Thank God.”

“Will I see you at the memorial?”

He hadn’t been invited, and hadn’t even know about it until a few minutes ago. “Yes, I expect you probably will.”

 

******

 

 

Ray twisted in his seat to eye Harvey. “You going in?”

The town car had been sitting at the curb in front of Daniel’s house for five minutes.

“Hmm? Yes. Of course.” Harvey gathered up Mike’s clothes, and waved off Ray, indicating that he didn’t need to get out to open his door.

He was halfway up the sidewalk when the front door opened to reveal Daniel standing there.

“Harvey, this is a surprise.”

“Is it?”

“I suppose not. You’re nothing if not predictable.” He held the door wider. “Come in. Let’s get this over with, shall we?”

Harvey followed him into the entryway, and to the living room, where Mike sat with a drink in his hand, looking as if he hadn’t slept for a few days. His eyes were dull and flat, although they brightened slightly when he caught sight of Harvey. Still his voice when he spoke was harsh. “What the hell are you doing here?” he asked, slurring his words.

Ignoring the question, Harvey turned to Daniel. “Could we have some privacy, please?”

Daniel’s evil hobbit face regarded him, and then he gave a humorless smile. “I suppose. As long as it’s all right with Mike.”

Mike rattled the ice in his glass. “You can say whatever you want in front of Daniel.”

“Nevertheless.”

“It’s fine,” said Daniel. “I’ll be in my study.”

When they were alone, Harvey set Mike’s clothes on the coffee table. “Jenny said you might need these.”

“So that’s how you found me. Remind me to tell Jenny off.”

“You should thank her the next time you see her.”

“For what?”

“For sending me to get you out of here.”

Mike reached for the bottle of scotch on the table, but Harvey was quicker, picking it up and holding it out of reach.

“Didn’t I teach you to drink your scotch neat?” He glanced at the label. “Or to pick a single malt that doesn’t taste like jet fuel?”

Mike sank back down onto the couch, and made a show of crunching on the melting ice in his glass as he glared up at Harvey.

“Mike, are you angry with me?”

“Should I be?”

Harvey paced away from the couch. This conversation was derailing fast. He took a moment to compose himself, and then returned to take a seat across from Mike. “I was sorry to hear about your grandmother. I liked Edith. I know you must miss her like hell.”

Mike stared down at his hands, mouth working. “Thanks for bringing me the suit. I’m sure Jenny must have told you the memorial is today.”

“She did. I’d like to come, if it’s all right with you.”

“Yeah, okay. Suit yourself. It’s at the nursing home. That’s where all her friends were.”

“That’s appropriate. Ray’s waiting outside. I’ll give you a ride back to the city.”

“Daniel already said—”

“Mike, I don’t want to argue with you about this today. The only thing I’ll say is, I’ve known Daniel Hardman for a lot longer than you have. You have to believe me when I tell you that you do not want to ally yourself with that man.”

“Who should I ally myself with? You?”

“Sure. And Jessica, and everyone at the firm who would be harmed if Daniel gets the votes.”

“You know what I think? The only reason you don’t like him is because he’s a better attorney than you.”

Harvey’s teeth ground together. Mike’s words didn’t bother him, because he knew they weren’t true. What did bother him was that Mike would use the accusation in an attempt to wound him.

He wasn’t getting through to Mike, that much was obvious. His instincts were telling him he needed to get Mike away from this house, and fast, even though he was self-aware enough to realize that a large part of his trepidation had more to do with his history with Cameron than any real danger Mike was in. Still, the fear was real, and time was growing short.

“I’m done arguing with you,” he said. “You’re coming with me. Now.”

“You can’t make me.”

Harvey breathed in and breathed out, searching for calm. He didn’t find it. Time for the nuclear option. “I’m telling you right now, Mike, if you choose to stay with Daniel, your time at the firm is done.”

“If you fire me, Daniel will only hire me back.”

“You think so? Even after I tell him you’re not a real lawyer?”

Mike’s eyes widened, and he surged to his feet, swaying. “You wouldn’t dare.”

Harvey rose more slowly, stepping closer to Mike. “I don’t want to, but if I have to, I will.”

“If you implicate me, you implicate yourself and Jessica, and the whole firm burns to the ground.”

Smiling coldly, faintly amused that Mike had used almost the exact same words as Harvey had to Jessica, he replied, “Then let it burn. Better that, than to let Daniel get his hooks back into it.” He waited, body tense and coiled, but Mike appeared incapable of speech for the moment. Softening his tone, Harvey added, “Bottom line is, you could end up in jail. Are you willing to push me that far, just to satisfy some grudge, or whatever it is this is about?”

With one step, Mike closed the distance between them to scant inches. “Push you?” He poked a finger into Harvey’s chest. “Sort of like you’ve pushed me away every time we came close to—”

“We haven’t come close to shit.”

Mike gave him a tight smile. “Only because you’re too deeply in denial.”

“Bullshit.”

“Bullshit? Then why are you here, acting like some jealous lover? God, you’re such a cliché. If you can’t have me, nobody can, is that how you believe this works?”

“I don’t know what you think is happening here, but it’s not about … _that_.”

Mike inched closer, so that their chests were touching. “Isn’t it?”

He put his hand on Harvey’s neck, and Harvey froze. He should step back, put a safe distance between them again, but he couldn’t seem to move. He watched as Mike’s face came steadily closer, and did nothing when he pressed his mouth to Harvey’s. He closed his eyes, and let Mike kiss him.

Mike’s lips were as soft as he had always imagined, although his tension clearly communicated itself through their tightness. Harvey opened his eyes, and two slightly out-of-focus blue eyes stared back at him. Harvey moved his head back, ending the kiss.

“Mike,” he said, “this isn’t—”

They would never know how he might have finished that sentence, because Mike dove back in for another kiss. This time, he held Harvey’s face between his hands, and plunged his tongue into his mouth while they grappled for a few seconds. Harvey stepped back, and Mike followed him. Harvey’s legs collided with the coffee table, making further retreat impossible. He realized he didn’t want to retreat, not anymore. With a low growl in the back of his throat, he grabbed Mike’s shoulders and kissed him back.

They pivoted, and stumbled, and fell clumsily together onto the couch. Harvey’s heart felt as if it would pound out of his chest. He rolled them sideways, and ground his hips against Mike’s. They sucked each other’s tongues, and nipped at each other’s lips. Harvey slid his fingertips down Mike’s waistband, tracing his hipbones, swallowing Mike’s needy moans.

“Well, well,” came a dry, amused voice behind them. “I find myself surprised, but not shocked. I guess we all deal with grief in our own way.”

As if surfacing from deep underwater, Harvey lifted his head and blinked slowly at Daniel. Beneath him, Mike struggled to get up. Moving without haste, Harvey put his feet on the ground and stood, facing Daniel. “I thought I asked you for privacy.”

“If I’d known you intended to assault my house guest …”

“He didn’t assault me.”

“Really? Are you saying I only imagined his hand down your pants just now?” Daniel waited, eyebrows raised, but neither of them answered him. “Mike? Am I to infer from this, er, development, that our association has come to an end?”

Harvey turned to Mike, curious himself as to the answer. Mike gave Harvey a complicated look, followed by a terse nod.

Daniel’s smile turned malicious. “Shame. I was so looking forward to enticing you over to the dark side, if for no other reason than to watch Harvey eat his heart out.”

With a snort of laughter, Harvey began gathering up the clothes he’s brought for Mike. “You really should work on your subtlety, Daniel. Maybe skip the mustache-twirling and sinister laughter.”

“If I’d known all I had to do was kiss him to keep him on my side—”

“What makes you think he’d even want that from you? And for the record, he kissed me first.”

“Good one, Harvey,” said Mike, rolling his eyes. “Let’s just get out of here.”

“That is the second-best idea you’ve had today.”

 

******

 

The drive back to the city was made almost entirely in silence, save for the music playing through the car’s speakers. Seeming to sense the tension between them, Ray raised the privacy barrier before they even made it to the interstate. After twenty minutes, Harvey couldn’t take it any longer.

“Mike? You doing okay?”

“Sure. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I don’t know. You’re awfully quiet.”

“So are you.”

Mike had a point. Harvey tried again. “I’m sorry I let things get so out of hand back there.”

“Regretting it already? Sounds about right.”

Harvey stared out the car window, struggling to hold onto his temper. “I never said I regretted it.” Feeling Mike’s eyes on the side of his face, he turned his head. Being met with Mike’s sad, vulnerable gaze, he was forcibly reminded what Mike was going through, and where they were headed. “This was the last thing you needed today.”

“How would you know what I need?”

“Mike … I don’t want to argue with you. Not now. Not when you’re on your way to say goodbye to your grandmother.”

A sad laugh from Mike. “I don’t know. An argument might be preferable to thinking about Grammy, and how I let her down.”

“You didn’t let her down. You did everything in your power to make sure she was comfortable. You broke the law to keep her in a good nursing home. I happen to know that you spent that bonus I gave you on an apartment for her. And in the end, I know she was proud of you. She told me as much the last time I saw her.”

Mike’s eyes on him were huge as he spoke. He seemed to drink in every word, as if this was exactly what he’d needed to hear.

“You were a good grandson to her. The best.”

Mike looked away, sniffing. “Thanks,” he muttered. His jaw worked for a few seconds. “I miss her so much. I don’t know how I’m going to get by, without her in my life.”

_You_ _’ve got me_. Harvey tested the words in his head. Would Mike even believe him? He decided to find out. “I’m not going anywhere. Anytime you need someone to talk to, I’m your guy.”

“Are you, though?”

Prompted by the desolation he heard in Mike’s voice, he decided that the time had come to be honest with him. It wasn’t easy.

“Yes, I am. I always was, but I didn’t want to admit it, not to you, and especially not to myself.” He let out a weary sigh. “The truth … the truth is, the way I’ve treated you, and kept you at a distance, wasn’t so much about you, it was about history. My history. I didn’t want you to know, because I was ashamed of what I allowed to happen.”

“You mean with Cameron?”

“I suppose it’s time I told you everything.” He stared out his window, trying to figure out how to start. He felt a hand on his arm, and turned to find Mike watching him, expression serious.

“Tell me, Harvey. I want to know.”

He swallowed thickly, and told his story.

“To begin with, Cameron was everything I could have ever wanted in a boss and a mentor – and a friend. He taught me what to wear, how to behave, what to drink. He showed me how to clear an insane number of cases, how to successfully get a defendant to plead out, and when to take it to trial, which was virtually never. We were … close. I admired everything about him. Eventually, he had me over to his house, for what he said would be a working weekend.”

He frowned at the memories, wishing he had a drink in his hand. “I was never certain how much he’d planned in advance. I wanted to believe that what happened next was as spontaneous, and as unexpected for him as it was for me.”. 

“What did happen next?”

“I … he … it became physical. I let it happen. I aided and abetted.”

“Something tells me it wasn’t as simple as that.”

“No. It wasn’t. At first, I believed it was just about sex. I didn’t understand that for him, it was more about power and control. Turns out, he was a living, breathing, textbook example of why you don’t get involved with co-workers, particularly when a power imbalance exists. After I found out he’d been burying evidence, and I confronted him about it, he made not so veiled threats about my future in the DA’s office, and as an attorney. If I hadn’t had Jessica, and the job she’d promised me at her firm, I don’t know how that would have played out. I might have been forced to compromise, for the sake of my career.”

“Knowing you, you would have fought back, consequences be damned.”

Harvey shook his head. “I’m not so sure. Anyway, I got the hell out of there, and did my best not to think about what happened ever again. I swore off men for good. Then you came along.”

“And you didn’t want to do to me what Cameron did to you.”

“Well, not all of it.” He gave Mike a wry smile. “Some of it, maybe.”

Mike looked away, growing thoughtful. “Were you really jealous of Daniel?”

“What? No. Maybe a little.” He sighed. “Yes, probably.”

“Still acutely in touch with your feelings, I see.” Mike softened his words with a smile. “Do you think it would freak Ray out if I kissed you again?”

“No, but it might freak me out.”

“Might? Let’s find out.” Mike slid closer, but Harvey pressed a hand to his chest, holding him back.

“Wait. Let’s get you through the memorial service, and then we can decide what to do about …” Harvey waved a hand between them. “About us.”

Mike’s mouth twisted, giving him a cynical look. “Sure. Whatever.”

“I’m not retreating again. I promise. You need to deal with your grief right now, though.”

Mike’s brow wrinkled. “What would you know about it? What would you know about this … this huge black hole that’s opened up inside me?” He sat back, leaning his head against the seat. “It feels like nothing will ever fill it.”

“I do know. When my dad died …” He shook his head, remembering the darkness that had swallowed him up for weeks afterward. “It will get better, but it takes time.”

“So says conventional wisdom. It doesn’t feel like it at the moment.” Mike sighed. “Let’s talk about something else. How are things at work? Is Daniel really trying to get rid of you and Jessica?”

“He is. You do realize that is why he befriended you, right? You fit in with his long-term scheme, because he’s determined that you would be a valuable asset under the new regime. Meaning, he believed he could control you.”

“I get that you don’t like the guy. And I sort of get why.”

“Then why were you still with him?”

“Maybe I just needed a friend.”

“When did you stop considering me your friend?”

 A harsh laugh. “When did you start?”

This effectively shut Harvey up. When had he started to think of Mike as a friend? In fact, more importantly, did he actually view him that way? Several seconds of thinking that one over had him admitting to himself that yes, he did.

“The crucial point,” Harvey said, “is that I consider you my friend now.”

Mike shrugged, but he appeared mollified.

Harvey glanced at his watch. “What time is the service scheduled to begin?”

“One o’clock.”

“That’s not going to give you much time to get back to your place to change.”

“Then we should head straight to the nursing home.” Mike yanked his t-shirt up and over his head, and reached for the clothes on the seat next to him. He caught Harvey staring at him, and blinked slowly. “What? Haven’t you ever changed clothes in a moving car before?”

Harvey sighed, trying to appear disgruntled, while also keeping half an eye out for whatever bits of Mike’s naked flesh he could see as his clothes were removed and replaced with the practiced ease of someone who had done this many times before.

 

******

 

Edith’s memorial service was quiet and subdued, in the way that these things usually were, but well-attended. Both the residents and staff of the nursing home crowded the small chapel. Jenny showed up, as well as (surprisingly, to Harvey) Rachel, and another young woman from Mike’s past, named Tess.

Doing his best to tamp down his jealousy at being in the presence of three of Mike’s undeniably attractive ex-girlfriends, Harvey listened with interest to Mike’s moving eulogy, and discreetly passed him a handkerchief when he sat back down next to him.

Afterwards, refreshments were served in the dining room, and Mike’s phalanx of exes were joined by a crowd of geriatric fans, intent on comforting Mike, and pinching his cheeks (and, in the case of one especially brazen granny, pinching his ass).

When Harvey finally managed to pry Mike away, the three exes exhibited varying degrees of regret (none from Jenny, a modest amount from Rachel, and full-blown wistfulness from Tess). To Harvey’s relief, Mike showed no particular interest in them. Each received a perfunctory peck on the cheek before Mike said his goodbyes, and left with Harvey.

Without asking, Harvey directed Ray to drive them to his condo in Manhattan. Mike gave him a sharp look but didn’t object.

Mostly to fill the silence on the drive, Harvey brought up the subject of the three exes – or “The Three Graces,” as he’d begun to call them in his mind. “To think,” he said, eyeing Mike sidewise, “I initially wrote you off as having no game.”

Mike let out an amused snort. “No game? Really? And now you’ve changed your mind?”

“Two solid eights and a ten showed up for your grandmother’s memorial service. Care to share your secret?”

 “For starters, I don’t rate them, or refer to them by a number. That’s a bit insulting.”

“To you?”

“To my friends.”

“Your girlfriends.”

“Ex-girlfriends.”

“Whatever. It’s quite the little fan club.” Harvey winced at how bitter that had sounded. “Sorry. Bad timing.”

“The worst.” Mike stared out the window, solemn and sad. “I appreciate the distraction, though. Anything, so I don’t have to think about … her.”

Harvey nodded distractedly. He remembered the feeling well. After his father had died, he’d thrown himself into work, and into fucking whichever willing female caught his eye that night. Any of those three women from Mike’s past might have been willing to fuck Mike’s grief away. Is that why Harvey had insisted on taking him home, to avoid that eventuality?

He gave his head a rough shake, trying to dispel this confusing train of thought.

“Aren’t you going to comment on the obvious?” asked Mike.

Harvey frowned at him, at a loss. “What?”

“The absence of Daniel.”

“Did you actually think he’d show up?”

A shrug, from Mike, who resumed his concentration upon the passing scenery.

 

******

 

“I’d offer you a drink, but you’ve probably had enough already today.”

“Offer anyway.” Mike collapsed flat on his back on the sofa, and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. “I can’t believe it’s still only afternoon. They way I feel, it should be dark outside, with a storm brewing. Thunder and lightning. The end of the world.”

Giving Mike a sympathetic nod, Harvey went to the kitchen and came back with two glasses of scotch. He handed one down to Mike. “Drink. The world’s not ending today.”

Mike struggled to sit up. “Isn’t it? Grammy’s dead. The firm is fracturing. If you go, I can’t stay on.”

“Daniel might still keep you.”

“You changed your mind about ratting me out?”

“I never would have done that.”

Mike shook his head, taking a long pull of scotch, and wincing. “Daniel wouldn’t keep me on. Not after today. He’s looking for loyalists, and I’ve proven that I’m not one.” He gave Harvey a level look.  “Not to him.”

Harvey understood what Mike was telling him, and it warmed him all the way through, more than the scotch. Mike was his guy, and always would be. “Stay here tonight,” he blurted, surprising them both.

“I will. If –”

“If what?”

Mike hesitated. “I don’t want this to come off sounding like emotional blackmail.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“You always want to keep a distance between us, but the truth is, I need you right now. I need to feel something besides this aching emptiness.”

“Mike …”

“I don’t think I’m being entirely selfish. I guarantee you’ll enjoy it too.”

Harvey sat heavily in the armchair, holding his drink against his chest. Mike could have given the snake in Eden a run for its money. He was tempted, and Mike wasn’t asking for anything that Harvey didn’t want anyway, if he dug down past all the years, and layers upon layers of accumulated denial.

He’d made resolutions, drawn lines in the sand and put up walls which had stood firm for ten years. Mike, though … Mike was hurting. Harvey understood that sort of pain. What was he supposed to do? Send Mike home, and likely into the arms of one or more of the Three Graces? The thought of that made him burn with jealousy. 

He took a drink, and eyed Mike over the rim of his glass. Mike was watching him in return, a carefully blank expression on his face.

“What exactly,” said Harvey, “are you asking from me?”

The blankness collapsed, revealing Mike’s weariness and his grief. “You really want me to spell it out for you?”

“I’m sorry.  Just … indulge me, please.”

Mike sniffed once, and set his drink on the coffee table. “I don’t have a script all ready to go. I just … All I want is for you to take me into the bedroom and …”

“And what?”

“And we take it from there. This doesn’t need to be complicated.”

Harvey thought about Cameron, about that first time at his house in Scarsdale.

_Drop to your knees and suck me off._

With Cameron, it had always been about power, and games, and keeping Harvey off-balance. There had been nothing uncomplicated about their time together. Nothing tender, or comforting.

“And what about after today?” asked Harvey. “What about tomorrow, and next week, and next month?”

Mike’s mouth twisted into a sardonic smile. “I’m not asking for a ring.” He let out a sigh which moved his entire upper body. “It’s fine. I thought … Never mind. I won’t ask again.” He picked up his drink and took a miniscule sip. “The couch is fine.”

_Nice guilt trip,_ Harvey thought. Had he learned that from his grandmother? And when had being a good host come to include inviting your guest into your bed?

_This doesn’t need to be complicated._

This was incredibly complicated.

Mike kicked off his shoes and lay back down, resting his glass on his stomach.

Harvey bit back a resigned sigh. Mike was grieving, and Harvey owned him more than his cold, leather couch. To himself, he admitted defeat – which felt less like defeat and more like … _hallelujah._

Keeping his elation tucked inside for now, he said, “It’s still early for sleep.” _For bed._ “Why don’t I order us some dinner?”

 

******

 

Three hours later, night had fallen, dinner was history, and Mike’s yawns were becoming more frequent and, Harvey judged, a touch too theatrical. It was time to give him the good news.

“You’re not sleeping on the couch.”

“Are you sending me home?”

“If you want to go home, I’ve got your cab fare. But no, that’s not what I meant.”

Mike’s suddenly saucer-wide eyes might have elicited a chuckle from Harvey, if his stomach wasn’t twisted up in knots as they teetered closer to the line he had sworn never to cross.

Despite the lingering case of nerves, Harvey’s mind was made up. He stood up and held out a hand. “Come to bed with me.”

Mike frowned uncertainly, as if he feared Harvey was playing a joke on him, but after a moment of hesitation, he took Harvey’s hand and let himself be pulled to his feet. Harvey kept hold of him, savoring the feel of Mike’s warm flesh. He shifted his thumb, grazing Mike’s pulse point, weirdly reassured that Mike’s racing heart matched his own.

“Are you sure?” asked Mike. “I mean, you seemed incredibly opposed to this before dinner. Does Thai food always affect you this way?”

“Yes, Mike. It was the papaya salad, a known aphrodisiac.” He rolled his eyes. “No, idiot. It’s you. You’ve worn me down. Take the win, and no gloating, all right?” He’d been aiming for a light, humorous touch, but evidently his aim was off.

“Huh.”

“What?”

“And you accused me of having no game? Does this approach normally work for you, seduction-wise?”

Harvey dropped Mike’s hand, turning away from him with a soft growl, and standing with hands on hips, staring at his bedroom door. Had he actually believed things would get any easier once he acquiesced?

“What happened to uncomplicated?” Harvey asked, and heard the accusation in his voice.

“There’s uncomplicated, and then there’s whatever this is.”

Harvey shut his eyes briefly, searching for patience. “This? This is me, giving you what you want.”

“I don’t want it, unless you do too.”

Harvey whirled back around, startled to find Mike inches away from him. He grabbed Mike’s shoulders, fingers digging into him with more force than he’d intended. Mike didn’t wince. He held his ground, and held Harvey’s gaze.

“Of course I want it,” Harvey grated. “I want you. I’ve wanted you since the first time I saw you. Since the Chilton. I couldn’t –”  He breathed in and out through his nose, frustrated by the need to say words he didn’t want to say. “I’ve told you why this felt like an impossibility. That’s changed. It’s changed. I’ve changed.” He bit back a laugh, fearing it would emerge like a cry of pain. “You changed me. Wanting you. Wanting … what I thought I could never have. What I didn’t deserve. You think this is easy for me? I want you, but at the same time, it feels like my fucking brain might explode if we go through with this. But, fuck it. I don’t care about that. I’m letting it go. Just tell me you still want this. That’s all I need to hear.”

Forcing his fingers to uncurl, he lifted them from Mike, letting them hover over his shoulders. He waited for Mike to respond, but he appeared frozen, incapable of anything beyond staring at Harvey with startled blue eyes.

“Say yes,” whispered Harvey. “Or say this is a mistake. Either say you’ve changed your mind, or come with me now, and we can finally put all of our questions to rest.”

Mike blinked slowly, once, as if giving Harvey a signal. He didn’t know what it meant, though. Was it once for yes? Once for no? He swallowed thickly, and waited.

“Yes.”

Mike spoke the word so softly, that for a moment Harvey feared he’d only imagined it. Then Mike grasped Harvey’s chin, holding it with his fingertips, and kissed him softly. “Yes,” he breathed into Harvey’s mouth. Taking his hand, he led Harvey through the bedroom door.

 

******

 

They undressed in silence, lay on the bed in silence, and regarded one another in silence, not yet touching. Mike’s gaze, though, felt like a caress, skimming across Harvey’s skin, raising goosebumps wherever it alighted. Harvey shivered and scooted closer, resting a hand on Mike’s hip.

“Tell me what you want,” he said.

Mike kissed the hollow of Harvey’s throat. “Touch me more,” he murmured. “Touch me however you want. Let me … not think.” He caught Harvey’s earlobe between his teeth, let go, and whispered, voice shaking, “Obliterate me.”

Harvey understood. Nodding once, he eased Mike onto his back and gazed down at him, mapping out his strategy. Setting his tongue against Mike’s clavicle, he licked a slow stripe down to his nipple and worked in a wet spiral, zeroing in and coaxing it into a hard peak. He latched on, suckling, nourishing himself on Mike’s taste, and his scent, and his surprised mewls of pleasure. It felt as if a drug had entered his veins, making him dizzy with want.

He moved to Mike’s other nipple, one hand on his shoulder, and the other underneath him, clutching his bottom, while he rocked his hips against Mike’s and sucked. When Mike wrapped his arms around his back, Harvey lifted his head. “No,” he said. “Hands on the bed. Let me give you what you’ve asked for.”

Mike slowly lowered his arms to the bed, elbows bent, and hands curled into loose fists next to his ears. He swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing up, and then down again. Harvey licked at his neck and moved to his mouth, lips pressing gently against Mike’s. His tongue teased its way into Mike’s mouth, and their moans melded together.

Overcome, Harvey rested his head against Mike’s neck, breathing him in. When Mike moved restlessly beneath him, Harvey sat back on his heels, straddling his legs, and ran his hands down Mike’s arms. His fingertips traced Mike’s pectorals, his ribs, his belly and hips. He moved lower, lying across Mike, kissing his stomach, bypassing his beautiful, hard cock for now, and moving to his thighs, kissing the creases where legs joined torso, pressing two fingers together and running them up and down his crack, light and then hard, and then light again.

“Harvey,” Mike breathed, a clear plea for more.

He wrapped his fist around Mike’s erection, kissed the tip, and dragged his tongue through the slit, giving a contented hum at the salty taste of pre-come gathering there. He sucked the head into his mouth, holding him inside and sliding his tongue wetly all around him. Strong,clever fingers worked their way through his hair, tugging lightly, once, and again, and again. Harvey moaned and swallowed more of Mike’s cock, sinking into the pleasure of it, drugged with the pleasure of it, steeped in a strange euphoria, unlike anything he’d ever felt before.

He sucked lazily, pressing one hand to Mike’s belly to pin him to the bed, while he squirmed and gasped and finally shouted wordlessly when Harvey pushed a fingertip into his hole.

“God, Harvey,” Mike husked. “Oh my god.” His hips jerked, fucking Harvey’s mouth, being fucked by his finger. “I can’t … you should … I want …” Harvey pushed his finger deeper, and Mike threw his head back against the pillows and gasped.  “Jesus. God. Fuck. I need …”

Harvey lifted his head and rubbed the tip of Mike’s cock with his thumb. “Shh.  I know what you need.”

Another time, he might have continued, enjoying the sensation of Mike coming in his mouth. This time, their first time together, Harvey had other plans.

_Obliterate me,_ Mike had begged.

Harvey intended to do precisely that. He retrieved lube and a condom from the nightstand and set them on the bed. Slicking his fingers up with lube, he bent one of Mike’s knees to his chest, and pushed inside of him with two fingers, working him open. Harvey vibrated with need – they both did – but he took his time, focused and intent, willing to take as long as necessary to prepare him. Mike watched him through nearly shut eyes, breathing unevenly, nostrils flaring every so often as Harvey touched the right place inside him.

Finally, judging that he’d tormented Mike enough, Harvey sat back on his heels and rolled the condom onto his cock. His hands shook as he stroked lube onto himself. The world, it seemed, had narrowed down to this one point in time, to this one place. He could hear the thud of his own heart, and Mike’s harsh, unsteady panting. Everything else was silent. The sounds of the city below, already faint, faded into nothing.

_No turning back after this._

The thought should have frightened him, or at least given him pause. Yesterday, it might have. Now, it only filled him with a heady mixture of relief and joy.

Harvey smiled tenderly down at Mike. Why had he denied them this pleasure for so long? Mike smiled back at him, and raised one hand to trail his fingertips down the side of Harvey’s face and trace the outline of his mouth. Leaning over Mike, Harvey kissed him, lazy and wet, and pressed the head of his cock to Mike’s entrance. He pushed past the last bit of resistance, catching Mike’s drawn-out moan in his mouth and throat. Long, strong legs circled his back, urging him closer, and closer still.

He was fully inside, groin snugged up next to Mike’s, exquisite heat squeezing him. He broke the kiss and laid his forehead against Mike’s shoulder, ordering himself not to move, not yet, giving Mike time to adjust to him. His lips moved against Mike’s skin, tattooing him one silent _I love you_ after another.

Mike’s fingers combed through his hair. “Harvey,” he breathed. “Oh, God, Harvey.”

Harvey might have been content to lay there longer, tangled up with Mike, joined together, heartbeats synced, Mike’s hard cock trapped between them. There would be no other first time for them, and he didn’t want it to end.

Mike’s whispered, “ _Please …_ ” was all it took to spur him back into movement.

He rocked into Mike, kissing his neck and cupping his bottom. Mike’s legs tightened around him. Harvey moved more strongly, pulling halfway out, and thrusting back in, watching Mike’s face closely to ensure that yes, this was good, this was what he wanted. Mike’s gaze on him was a little wild, and a little bit desperate. Harvey paused, but Mike shook his head.

“No. You have to keep going.” Mike licked his lips and swallowed. “You feel so good inside me. I want more. I need more.” He scraped his nails lightly up and down Harvey’s back.

Harvey took this as permission to stop holding back. He braced one hand on the headboard, and drove into Mike, faster and harder, while he grasped Mike’s cock and stroked him off. He found a rhythm, and Mike matched it, snapping his hips up to meet Harvey’s. They strove together, lifting one another higher and higher, filling the room with the music of their gasps and sighs and moans, and the creaking mattress, and the thump of the bed frame against the wall.

Harvey felt as if he was about to take flight. Mike’s back arched, he went rigid, and then cried out as he came hotly over Harvey’s fist. His channel spasmed around Harvey, squeezing him tighter.

Harvey’s elegantly paced strokes disintegrated into wild, frenzied rutting. He pressed his lips together to keep in the coarse, guttural eruptions of sound being wrung out of him. As his climax rushed in on him, he surrendered to it, letting out a surprised sounding roar as he came apart, vision whiting out, his entire body shuddering while he held on tightly to Mike.

 

******

 

Harvey estimated that it was somewhere around midnight, perhaps later than that. They’d finished round two about an hour ago. Mike had fucked Harvey this time, and it had been, if possible, even better than the first time. Mike had game. He had skills Harvey had never suspected.

Now, Mike lay on his back, snoring softly. Harvey had his hand on Mike’s diaphragm, feeling him breath, watching him sleep. This moment felt like a miracle, something he’d wished for, but never imagined possible.

He wasn’t worried about their future together. They’d figure that out as they went. He wasn’t naïve enough to believe it would all be smooth sailing from now on. Mike still had his grief to work through. The situation at the firm remained up in the air. They’d figure that out too. He and Jessica would get the votes they needed, somehow. They’d beat Hardman. They would win, because that is what they did.

In that moment, he didn’t care about any of that. All he cared about was watching Mike’s chest lift and lower, watching him breath in and out beside him. Every breath, every contented sigh and sleepy snuffle reassured Harvey that this hadn’t been a mistake.

History was not repeating itself. It was being rewritten. His world, which had been forced so badly out of its orbit, had been restored to its proper path. The low-level dread which he had carried inside of him for so long was gone.

He eased closer to Mike, aligning their bodies.

“Stop staring at me and go to sleep,” Mike grumbled.

Harvey kissed his temple and did just that.

 

**The End.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again, FrivolousSuits, for the prompt. There were times (too many to count), when I thought it might defeat me. But I finished! I wrote "The End," and the struggle is over! Ha ha!! The hardest part was trying to write the most romantical smut in my fanfic career. Not sure if I succeeded, but I gave it a shot! Hope you enjoyed the final installment.
> 
> And thanks, everyone, for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> So, that's the first half of the story. The next chapter will pick up when Mike comes to work for Harvey ... however many years later that is. (Anyone want to do the math on that for me? ) 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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